Identity Crisis
by Bingalicious Midnight
Summary: Chekov and Spock, as well as McCoy and a redshirt, somehow switch bodies. But how? Why? And is these a way to switch back? The walruspeople on an icy planet seem to know... Chapter 17 up now.
1. Dreams

Disclaimer: Nope. Star Trek's not mine.  
  
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A/N: I'm seriously editing (in other words, deleting whole badly-written paragraphs and rewriting them). So this chapter (and soon others) will be a little bit different. But don't worry; not enough has been changed that you have to read anything over again.  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter One - Dreams  
  
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Chekov was having a rather odd dream. He was a child sitting around in his parent's house (which was odd enough; as a child he had always been energetic) but to make matters stranger there was the fact that they weren't HIS parents. It did make some sense, but only in that dream way. However, that wasn't particularly comforting as fishing in the bathtub could make perfect sense in that dream way.  
  
It was hot on Vulcan, but he was used to it; he had ALWAYS lived on Vulcan (part of his mind protested against this; he was from Russia on Earth, not ShirKahr on Vulcan, as his dream was suggesting.) How did he know this was Shirkahr? The part of his mind that was trying to make sense of the dream as it happened was very confused. His parents- not his, but...  
  
Spock's? Yes, Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda were Spock's parents, and, in the dream, his parents. e knew tham because they had been on the Enterprise once. There had also been a lot of business about some dead ambassadors, but Chekov at least knew who they were.  
  
He was walking to school at the Vulcan Science Academy when some of the other boys came up to him. He knew them all, in the dream, anyway (could these be real people Spock had known? Chekov doubted it, but this dream was begining to scare him), and they started taunting him. Well, not taunts for someone who had grown up in Russia, but perhaps for a half-Vulcan...  
  
"Earther!" someone yelled.  
  
"Are you going to get mad at us?"  
  
"Terran!"  
  
Chekov did not care in the least- he was from Earth, and proud of it. But for some reason, he was getting mad in the dream. There was, for some reason, a brick laying nearby. He stooped, picked i up, and--  
  
--woke up. Why had he been dreaming about Spock? No, as Spock?  
  
The chronometer next to his bed read two forty.  
  
Chekov wisely (or so he thought) stopped trying to decipher his dream. It was early. Or late. Or whatever you say at two forty in the morning.  
  
He rolled over and fell back to sleep.  
  
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Out of the four hundred and thirty crewmembers on the Enterprise, there were three other people having similar dreams. They were not Spock-dreams. In fact, not even Spock was dreaming about himself. His dreams brought him to (though this was highly illogical) Russia, where he went to school with humans and played in the snow. At the moment, he was hiding behind a wall of snow, making a snowball to throw at one of Chekov's childhood friends.  
  
The dream was strange, as Spock could think of nothing (yes! a score with the snowball!) that might have triggered a dream like this.  
  
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McCoy was one of the four who were living someone else's life in his sleep. He found himself in a suburb in New York. He was playing with his brother and sister, on the grass with a hose. Like the others who were dreaming, it half-made sense, in that dream fashion. But it didn't make sense in the rest of his mind. This had never happened to him. He had never been someone else in a dream, not like this. And he hadn't even visited New York until he was twenty.  
  
Right now he had control of the hose, and sprayed his brother, who began to laugh hysterically.  
  
"Ha ha ha! Joe! Joey, stop it ha ha ha ha."  
  
In his mind, McCoy went through the "Joes" he knew of. There were probably a lot of them on the ship. His thoughts were broken up as his sister wrestled the hose from him.  
  
He could feel the spray of the hose. He could feel himself being soaked.  
  
That was also odd. This dream was very, very, real. But who was Joe? And why was he Joe?  
  
His first question was answered when a woman, his- Joe's- mother opened the door and yelled:  
  
"Joseph Luke Roberts! Get in here now!"  
  
McCoy woke up.  
  
Joseph Luke Roberts. Who was he? McCoy promised to find out in the morning. It was too late (early?) now to do anything. His chronometer read two forty. So it was morning. But that was the kind of technical thing that Spock would think of.  
  
McCoy blinked sleepily, glad to be free of the dream, and said aloud, "Computer, remember the name Joseph Luke Roberts, okay?" He would find this Joe, if there was one. Because never before had he had a dream like that.  
  
The computer said something in acknowledgment that McCoy wouldn't remember when he woke up later. He closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.  
  
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The only other Enterprise personnel who also had a dream of someone's life was Ensign Joseph Luke Roberts. Known to friends and family as either Joey or Joe Bob. To everyone else, Ensign Roberts.  
  
However, in the dream, he found himself in Georgia. It was the lazy summer, and he-  
  
He was Doctor McCoy?  
  
What was he thinking- dreaming- whatever! He wanted very badly to wake up, but the dream continued. It made sense, in that dream sort of way. But not in any way that had anything to do with reality. Or sanity. It was a weird dream.  
  
Thankfully, the dream was cut off as his chronometer whistled. He had a late night, er, early morning shift. The chronometer read two thirty-one.  
  
He pulled himself out of bed, trying to forget the dream. But he couldn't. It had been far too strange.  
  
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Reviews appreciated! 


	2. Memories and Headaches

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Star Trek. I'm sure many people wish they won Star Trek. There are probably people who think it would be nice to own Star Trek, but don't. There are probably others who don't even like Star Trek but would like the money they would get for owning it. However, none of these people, including me, own Star Trek. Sucks, no?  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Two - Memories and Headaches  
  
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The next morning came as usual on the USS Enterprise. The dreams, as strange as they had seemed, were all but forgotten. After all, they were just dreams. What could they possible mean?  
  
Unfortunately for McCoy, his computer was determined not to let him forget something. In any case, it was his own fault. As soon as his computer sensed him moving it recited the name "Joseph Luke Roberts."  
  
"Say what?" he asked the computer groggily, blinking to clear his eyes. It was very early in the morning. It was still early, though it was nearer to six o'clock than two forty.  
  
"Joseph Luke Roberts," the computer obediently repeated.  
  
"Riiiiiight," McCoy mumbled. The dream was coming back to him, with more detail than he would have wanted. There was something strangely unnerving about that dream. He just KNEW it shouldn't have happened. He just KNEW there was something strange going on.  
  
Who was he kidding? There was nothing strange about a dream! Why, a few days ago he'd had a dream that he was living alone on an island when Muppets from the twentieth century had told him he had to move because the island was about to be infested with ferrets. And obviously, that dream didn't mean anything. He was insane.  
  
Yes, that was it, he thought jokingly. He had spent too much time in space and had gone insane. Or maybe too much time with Spock. Now that would make an interesting headline: Man Gone Insane Because of Over-Logical Vulcan. Or maybe Vulcan Spock Destroys Sanity of Ship's Doctor.  
  
McCoy was still trying to think of good headlines as he headed down to breakfast. Though it was a rather pointless activity, it pushed the dream out of his mind.  
  
After getting eggs, bacon, hash browns, and orange juice from the food replicator, he headed over to Spock's table. He had to tell the Vulcan about his "headlines." Maybe Spock would even have a few suggestions of his own.  
  
Or not.  
  
McCoy was in mid-Chief Medical Officer Loses Mind Because of Logical Spock when he heard a snippet of conversation coming from a table nearby. "Yeah. But wasn't that a weird dream? I mean, I was Doctor McCoy. Not, like, watching him. Being him. It was messed up."  
  
"Vell," this was Chekov, "I had a dream like thet too. Except I vas Mr. Spock. It vas wery strange. It just. seemed wrong. I didn't vant to be him but I vas. I woke up when I was about to throw a brick at a bunch of Vulcan kids because they were calling me 'Earther.'"  
  
McCoy had completely forgotten the conversation he had been having with Spock. (Or rather his talking and Spock's Eyebrow raising.) Other people had had dreams.  
  
It seemed that Spock had suddenly forgotten the conversation as well, for he too was listening to the conversation. Something like emotion had passed over his face when Chekov had said something about, what... throwing a brick at some Vulcan kids? It looked almost like Spock was remembering something with satisfaction.  
  
However, McCoy decided to walk over to the table where Chekov and possibly Joe Roberts were sitting.  
  
"Um, excuse me?" he said awkwardly.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
McCoy went straight to the point. "Are you Joseph Luke Roberts?" The name had been burned into his memory ever sine he had been basically woken up by it. Damn computer.  
  
"Uh, yessir. How'd you know, sir? Am I due for a physical?"  
  
"No, no," McCoy laughed. "I couldn't help but hear you say you had a dream in which you 'were' me. That's true, right?"  
  
Ensign Roberts nodded nervously. Where was this line of questioning going?  
  
"There's something strange going on, then." McCoy related all that he had dreamed.  
  
By the time he had finished, Roberts was staring at him with an expression of shock. "My. my eighth birthday party. How did you know? Sir. Have you been looking at my files? I didn't know it was in there."  
  
"Just tell me about your dream."  
  
"Yessir. I was in Georgia, I knew that, and it was summertime. I was walking around, and I'm sure something else would have happened, but then I woke up. I had a late shift and I'm just eating now in the middle of it."  
  
"What time did you wake up?" Could he have been dreaming at the same time McCoy and Chekov had been?  
  
"Two-thirty. Well, it was two thirty-one when I looked at the chronometer, but." he trailed off, with nothing more to say.  
  
"Vhat about me?" Chekov asked.  
  
"What about you."  
  
"I dremed too. Except I vas Mr. Spock."  
  
"Okay." McCoy didn't know what to say to that. He suddenly became aware that Spock had moved and was standing next to the table with his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
"Please relate your dream, Ensign Chekov," he said.  
  
Chekov obeyed, and McCoy was sure that he saw that same glimmer of emotion on Spock's face.  
  
"Very interesting," Spock said. "That is, in fact, an event from my childhood."  
  
"So what does it mean?" McCoy asked. He didn't really expect anyone to know; he just felt as though the question needed asking.  
  
"I do not know," Spock said seriously.  
  
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Breakfast ended and the day continued on the Enterprise with little change. Everyone, including the dreamers, went about their respective duties; Spock and Chekov on the bridge, McCoy in Sickbay, and Roberts to Security.  
  
To Captain Kirk on the bridge, everything seemed perfectly normal. The bridge crew came back from breakfast, sat down at their stations, and did what they had to do.  
  
But Kirk was not in Chekov's head. He was experiencing strange memories and thoughts--and they all seemed as though they should belong to Spock.  
  
Even as he plotted the course to Seti Olan Two, a planet of strange psychic people, he was thinking of his old pet sehlat Ee-Chaya. This would have been perfectly normal, had Chekov ever owned a sehlat named Ee-Chaya. As it were, sehlats were Vulcan creatures.  
  
He buried his head in his hands. And now to top it off, he had a headache. Out of sudden curiosity, he looked at Spock. Was the Vulcan experiencing the same problems he was? Memories that didn't belong to him and a headache. It was hard to tell with a Vulcan.  
  
The thought of Spock experiencing his memories was a strange one. What part of Chekov's life was Spock reliving in his mind? No doubt he would find Russia interesting. It wasn't like Vulcan where Chekov had lived.  
  
No! No, no no. He was from Russia, on Earth, and his name was Pavel Andreivich Chekov. Not Spock of Vulcan. No, no, no!  
  
Even as he repeated his identity to himself, the headache seemed to get worse. Apparently Captain Kirk noticed, for he asked Chekov what was wrong.  
  
"Headache," Chekov muttered. He didn't need to tell Captain Kirk about the Spock memories. And anyway, the headache was getting bad.  
  
"Well, why don't you go down to Sickbay. I'm sure we'll be okay without you for a few minutes."  
  
Chekov nodded, then hurried off the bridge, Kirk's words of "Mr. Sulu, take over Mr. Chekov's station" fading away. When he got down to Sickbay, Nurse Chapel was already treating someone. For a headache, it seemed. Chekov groaned softly as he saw who it was. He should have guessed. Ensign Joe Roberts. Doctor McCoy would probably be somewhere nearby. And probably soon Spock.  
  
Yes, there was Dr. McCoy, sitting on a chair in the corner holding his head.  
  
A different nurse guided Chekov to a bed and he sat down. His headache had gotten worse. And so were the memories.  
  
"What's wrong?" the nurse asked politely, though she didn't need to. She was already waving a mediscanner around his head. The nurse looked at the results and pushed a hypospray into his shoulder. Nothing happened. Maybe it would take a little while to kick in.  
  
This hurt almost as much as when he had tried to fight the other boys on Vulcan and they had hit him on the head with his own brick. (So that's what happened then, Chekov thought.)  
  
But the thought did not last long, and soon Chekov wanted to scream. The hypospray wasn't helping, and he was still plagued by all of these absurd memories.  
  
The doors to Sickbay swished open again, and Spock entered the room. "Doctor?" he asked.  
  
"Not now, Spock," McCoy said crossly from his chair, "Talk to someone else. I've got a bad headache and the hypo hasn't exactly kicked in yet."  
  
The nurse was puzzled. Four people with bad headaches, coming in at the same time. And Spock was one of them? In all her experience on the Enterprise, the nurse had never seen the Vulcan come in with a headache. After all, he was Vulcan. She watched (and hid a smile) as Nurse Chapel rushed to tend to Spock.  
  
Actually, though to the nurses it was not apparent, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, and Roberts all had more than just headaches. They were in each other's memories. Or, to be more specific, Spock had memories of Russia, Chekov had memories of Vulcan, McCoy had memories of New York, and Roberts had memories of Georgia. And on a faraway planet, a walrus-like alien was sneezing.  
  
Strangely enough, the memories seemed to be. thickening. That was the word that came into Roberts' head when he tried to think of a description. Becoming more detailed, more real, and there were more and more of them. When he had woken up, it had only been the dream. It had been nothing. But as the day went on, he remembered his- McCoy's- dad's small doctor's office. He remembered meeting Jocelyn in High School. Then he remembered exactly what happened during their first kiss. What the hell was wrong with him?  
  
Roberts felt like he was intruding horribly into Doctor McCoy's mind, but he could do nothing to stop the memories.  
  
Finally the hyposprays kicked in. They had taken longer than usual to work, leaving the four men to contemplate the memories.  
  
They could finally go back to their stations and do something to take their minds off, well, their minds. And someone else's mind.  
  
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As Spock and Chekov exited the turbolift and walked to their places on the bridge, Chekov realized that the headache had not completely gone away. It was just there enough to be annoying. Annoying like the memories were. And he was experiencing so many memories he wasn't even sure if he was Chekov.  
  
Then suddenly, the annoying pain exploded into agony in Chekov's brain. The memories were rushing past him like a river. He was drowning.  
  
There was Amanda--Sarek--Ee-Chaya--the boys who had taunted him--his teachers-- now places--there was Shirkahr--the desert--New Jersey where his human grandparents lived--his school--his house--  
  
Everything went black for a moment, then Chekov was awake again. And the memories had stopped, for now. That was a relief in itself. He didn't even notice that he was on the other side of the room. But he watched himself straighten up, then-  
  
He realized what he had just seen. He was outside his body somewhere. He looked down at himself, for it certainly felt like he had a body.  
  
He did.  
  
But he simply couldn't believe whose body it was.  
  
It was Mr. Spock's.  
  
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Please review. 


	3. Mind Meld

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.  
  
A/N: Still rewriting! Here's the redone chapter three (made exclusively in the night with only a laptop screen to see by!)  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Three - Mind Meld  
  
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Finding himself halfway across the ship in Dr. McCoy's body was a slightly more unnerving situation than Roberts would have liked to find himself in. It didn't even register in his shocked brain that the memories and headache were gone; all that he understood at the moment was that he was suddenly in Dr. McCoy's body.  
  
He stood, staring at down at himself, his mouth working without producing any noise. 'Slightly more unnerving' was a serious understatement. This was... there wasn't a word to describe what this was. Who, oh why, had he joined Starfleet?  
  
Apparently Doctor McCoy had been talking to Nurse Chapel, for she had asked "Doctor? What happened?" and looked at him with concern. What had they even been talking about? Roberts wondered. Some of those memories might come in handy now.  
  
Okay. Just explain. "This may sound weird, but I'm n-" Roberts couldn't force the words out. He couldn't say, "I'm not Doctor McCoy." Such a simple phrase, but yet.  
  
Try it again. "I'm n-" Why couldn't he tell her?  
  
"Doctor?" Nurse Chapel looked truly concerned now.  
  
"I'm fine. Probably just some after-effect of the headache," he said. If he couldn't say who he really was, then he wouldn't. It was as simple as that.  
  
Of course, nothing else was simple. What had happened? And how would he get his body back? Would he have to pretend to be Dr. McCoy? If so, how the hell was he supposed to do THAT?  
  
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Doctor McCoy was no less confused. He was also halfway across the ship, and in a different body (Ensign Roberts', of course). He spent less time gaping, as his experience as CMO of the Enterprise had shown him things nearly as alarming; nearly, but he was feeling at the moment that this topped them all.  
  
But there was one thing he would definitely have to do. He had to tell Jim. He didn't know how this had happened, how he had ended up in Ensign Roberts' body, but he couldn't stay there. It must have had something to do with those strange dreams, and then the memories and then the headaches... but he would probably need Jim's help to figure it out.  
  
He walked over to the nearest intercom, which was on the other side of the hallway Roberts had been standing in, somewhat surprised at the strength and agility in Roberts' body. There was good reason for this strength, however, as McCoy was almost twenty years Roberts' senior.  
  
McCoy hit the intercom button, saying "Jim?" It sounded strange coming from this mouth. Roberts' mouth. McCoy rarely heard anyone else call the captain 'Jim.' (Except Spock when he was feeling emotional. in other words, very, very, rarely.)  
  
"Uh. who is this?" Kirk responded hesitantly.  
  
"Something strange just happened, and this is--" but he couldn't forse out the name. He couldn't say "McCoy" or "Bones."  
  
"Who is this?" Kirk asked again.  
  
McCoy gave up for the mean time. There was something strange happening, no doubt, but for now he would have to act as Roberts until he could find someone to tell. "Ensign Roberts, sir," he said.  
  
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The switched four didn't get to meet again until luch (or rather, Roberts' dinner-like meal). None of them had been able to tell anyone about the strange happenings.  
  
They somehow managed to gravitate to the same table. After all, they needed to talk. To the outsider, it would have seemed that Chekov spoke first, though in actuality it was Spock.  
  
"Obviously, we have a problem. We are trapped in the bodies of others, and are unable to speak about our difficulties to anyone, excluding, apparently, each other." Without its usual Russian accent, Chekov's voice sounded alien.  
  
"No, really?" McCoy couldn't help retorting sarcastically, "I somehow get stuck inside of Roberts here and I can't tell anyone about it and you think we have a problem?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. Even in a Chekov shell, this was unmistakably Spock."I don't know why I even bother." Why was he even arguing? he wondered vaguely. They had a problem, that was for sure, and it would probably best be solved if he didn't spend his time bickering with the First Officer.  
  
"Like I said," Spock continued, ignoring McCoy for the moment, "We have a problem. The only 'plus' is that, at least for me, the memories of Mr. Chekov as well as the headache that accompanied them are gone. It is, though this phrase is certainly not accurate, that we had to puch our way through the memories to get to the bodies we currently occupy.  
  
"In any case, the logical conclusion is that we must discover a way to remedy this problem without help outside this group."  
  
"Ve're doomed," Chekov murmured to himself, only half-joking.  
  
"Spock. can't you try a mind-meld or something? I mean, Chekov has your body but you should be able to just use your mind, right?" McCoy said. It made sense, at least to him, that this should work.  
  
"Possibly," Spock appeared to be thinking this over. Rather, Chekov appeared to be thinking this over. "Yes. I shall attempt a mind meld. That was a loical idea, Doctor."  
  
"Right here?" Roberts pointed out, "You do realize you look like Chekov, and most people would be confused if they saw you doing a mind-meld in the mess hall even as Mr. Spock. This might freak people out a bit." He paused, then remembered, "Sir."  
  
"Logical, Ensign. Where do you suggest we attempt the mind meld?"  
  
"Ve could try it en Sick Bay. I em sure Joe Bob can get us en."  
  
Spock was looking at Chekov in what could have been alarm and McCoy was watching him in amusement. To anyone who didn't know what had happened, it would look as though Spock had adopted a Russian accent...  
  
"Mr. Chekov," Spock said dryly, "I suggest you work on your accent if you wish to impersonate me until we can discover the means to switch back."  
  
"Yes, sair."  
  
"So we're actually going to impersonate each other? We're not going to try to tell someone?" McCoy asked. He had thought they might have had to do this, but he certainly wasn't looking forward ot it. And if there was any other way...  
  
"We have tried, Doctor. I believe we have already gone over this. We cannot tell anyone. That much has been made clear. Now we have a choice of either impersonating each other, or ending up in, as you would say, the 'loony bin.' Our sanity will surely be doubted if we did not. If we were in fact deemed insane, we would lose most of the resources we have now. Without those resources, we will be unable to do research and experiments and it is unlikely we will ever switch back." Spock's voice was like ice. Cold but clear. And very logical.  
  
"Well then, 'Doctor', lead us to Sickbay so Spockov can try the mind meld," McCoy said sarcastically to Roberts. "Just... while you're impersonating me, you will have to be very careful not to get yourself stuck doing any medical work. You may be a good security guard, but that does not make you a good doctor. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Roberts said. Then they went to sickbay.  
  
You had to hand it to him, Roberts was a good actor. He fed the nurses some cock and bull story about checking out the headache victims from earlier because the hypos hadn't worked immediately, and they believed every word.  
  
Soon they had a whole room in Sickbay to themselves. Spock sat down on a biobed- no, it was Chekov, it just looked like Spock. This was confusing, and it could probably only get worse.  
  
The real Spock put his fingertips to Chekov's temple. He first muttered a few things that McCoy and Roberts didn't hear, then acquired the glazed look that came from mind to mind contact.  
  
"I wonder if this is going good," McCoy commented. He didn't expect an answer from Roberts and he didn't get one.  
  
Suddenly Spock straightened up and clutched at his head.  
  
"What the.?" McCoy breathed.  
  
Then Spock's knees buckled underneath him and he fell.  
  
McCoy took the few steps that brought him to Spock's side. He picked him up with a small bit of effort and lay him down on a nearby biobed. (If it had been Spock's body McCoy wouldn't have been able to do this. Be as it may, it was Chekov's body and the Russian was smaller and lighter than Spock. Also, McCoy was now Roberts, and stronger than he would have been had he been himself That was one good thing about this whole business).  
  
"Roberts, hand me that hypospray." It felt odd to order himself (at least his image) around, but Roberts obeyed with a 'yes sir.' McCoy applied the hypospray to Spock's shoulder.  
  
"Spock. are you all right?"  
  
"Doctor, I believe I have failed," Spock said, not answering the question, "I encountered a. presence in Mr. Chekov's mind. It was blocking me from attempting anything useful. When I tried to get past it, I was... thrown out of his mind."Spock sounded disoriented, but McCoy didn't exactly blame him.  
  
"Vhat sort of presence? I mean, I vant to know what is een my head."  
  
Spock seemed to wince at the accent, but it may have been McCoy's imagination. "It was a powerful presence. I was unable to determine much more, because at that point it stopped me from coming any further."  
  
"Is it in our minds too, Spock? Or is it just Chekov?"  
  
"Doctor, in order for me to know this, I would have to do a Mind-meld with you or Ensign Roberts."  
  
"Then do it. We need to know what this 'presence' means. And what we can do to get rid of it if it's what turned me into Ensign Roberts. And will SOMEONE get ready to catch him if he falls again?"McCoy finished, looking pointedly at Chekov and Roberts.  
  
Chekov and Roberts both hastened to the task. McCoy couldn't get over the fact he was watching himself and Spock stand by to catch Chekov if the Mind- meld was disrupted again.  
  
Spock's fingertips found his temple. McCoy's eyes closed as he tried to follow the Vulcan though his mind. He could sense Spock in his thoughts, could sense him trying to dig deeper into McCoy's consciousness. And then suddenly something in his mind rebelled. But not quite his mind. The presence? Then Spock was no longer there. McCoy's eyes snapped open.  
  
There were Chekov and Roberts, looking like Spock and McCoy, supporting a one more unconscious Chekov-looking Spock.  
  
"What are you waiting for? Give him the hypospray!"McCoy snapped.  
  
Spock awoke for the second time to see three faces staring down at him. He got to his feet, if somewhat unsteadily (Chekov had been supporting him), rubbing his head. He had a headache for the second time that day.  
  
"The presence was certainly there," he said, answering the unspoken question. "And Doctor, I seem to have a headache."  
  
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Reviews are wonderful! 


	4. Bones, you've never called me sir

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. People should know that. It does own a large chunk of my brain, though.

A/N: Here is chapted four, all edited! (And believe me, it needed it.)

Identity Crisis

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Chapter Four - "Bones, you've never called me sir..."

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"Okay," McCoy said, slightly nervously. "If we're really going to go through with this, I think we'll need to know a bit more about each other. Just an overview."

Spock nodded. "Logical," he said.

"Well, I'll begin," said McCoy. "Roberts. Jim will probably want to talk to you soon. You'll have to remember to sound informal. I nevercall him sir or any of that crap. Threaten him with his physical, it's coming up. If he asks you about anything medical, just bluff. Make something up. Chances are he doesn't know what you're talking about either. Can you do that?"

Roberts swallowed visibly. Obviously McCoy wasn't the only one that didn't feel thrilled about this adventure. "I can do that, sir," Roberts said.

"Don't say sir!" McCoy exclaimed. "There's no one that I call sir, unless I'm being sarcastic. Uh... when you're in Sickbay, just stay in my office. Tell Nurse Chapel you're doing some reading. She won't bother you, and she can handle any injuries or illnesses herself."

Roberts interrupted. "Sir, if someone asks me to do something--?"

McCoy thought for a moment. If someone told him to do something that he didn't want to do, he would probably just tell him or her to do it by his- or herself. He said this to Roberts. "So don't worry," he added, "Getting out of things that way won't seem too suspicious. Other than that... I think you should be okay."

"Yes sir."

McCoy glared at the ensign, folding his arms over his chest. "Say that again, without the 'sir.'"

"Yes," Roberts repeated obediently.

McCoy sighed. "That's better, I suppose. Anything I need to know?"

"Well, si--, well, just follow orders. Call your superior officers 'sir.' And try not to volunteer for any missions."

McCoy tilted his head to one side and look at Roberts questioningly. Did the boy think he was incapable of taking care of himself?

Seeing McCoy's reaction, Roberts hastily explained. "Security guards don't have a very safe job... people usually go for them first. It would be better for all of us, I think, if you kept my body alive."

"You know, I don't have a very safe job, either," McCoy said. "And I've always been fine." Roberts began to protest, but McCoy but in. "Fine. I won't volunteer for missions." McCoy had seen far too many deaths of security guards to say that Roberts didn't have a point.

"Are you all skvaired avay?" Chekov asked. "Because I think Mr. Spock and I vill haff the most problems in passing for each other."

McCoy grimaced involuntarily. Perhaps he and Roberts could pass for each other; they were fairly similar. But Chekov and Spock... there was no way. When Chekov spoke, his Russian accent was painfully not Spock.

Apparently Spock was thinking the same thing. "Mr. Chekov," he said, "I think you may have to do something about your accent, or not speak at all." His voice was even, but McCoy was an expert on picking up the worry that laced it.

"But how am I supposed to do thet?" Chekov wanted to know. "I am trying to speak English, it is not my fault I haff an accent!"

"Concentrate," Spock advised. "Try to avoid the words you find difficult."

"I vill--I shall," Chekov said. The accent was still unmistakable; 'shall' sounded like 'shell.'

"Ensign," Spock said, "I have not spoken with a Russian accent, ever. My mouth should be accustomed to speaking normal English. Try to speak through my body, and not through your mind."

Chekov blinked. "Perhaps I can try," he said.

"Yes, try." McCoy imagined he heard some impatience in Spock's voice. "Also, you cannot act human. Try not to show emotion in your face or voice. Do not fidget--"

"Yes, sir," Chekov interrupted. "I know how it is you act."

Spock simply nodded with a tiny sigh. He had apparently given up. "Is there anything I should know, Ensign?"

"Vell... I assume you know how to navigate, and you'll need to talk in my accent. Oh yes. I haff a girlfriend named Kayla Dunn."

"And how might I avoid her?" Spock asked.

Chekov winced. "I don't know. Just play along if she takes you somevhere."

"Fine, ensign," Spock said.

The chronometer on the wall said that lunch was over. McCoy glanced at it, then stood up. "Roberts, where do I go?"

"Just to Security. They'll tell you what to do," the ensign said.

"All-righty then," said McCoy. "Good luck."

--------------------------

Roberts stood with his hands behind his back uncertainly in Sickbay. McCoy had told him to go to McCoy's office, but Roberts realized belatedly that he had no idea which room the office was. Nurse Chapel walked in from around the corner.

"Hello, Doctor," she said. "I just left some paperwork in your office. Sometimes I still can't believe it. We can fly through space but we still have paperwork."

"I know, it's crazy," Roberts said. "I'll be doing some, uh, reading, so, uh, don't bother me."

Chapel looked at him quizzically, no doubt wondering why he was so rude. "Okay, Doctor. Just be sure to fill out some paperwork, while you're in there."

Roberts nodded and forced a smile. He walked in the direction that Nurse Chapel had just come from. She said she'd just come from his office, no? As it turned out, there were two doors at the end of the hall. The first he pushed open led to a room filled with medical equipment he didn't want to think about. The other led to what looked like an office. With a sigh of relief, Roberts stepped in.

Obviously he wasn't going to do any reading. He was tired form a long shift. And as long as no one barged in on him, he should be able to safely relax. He sat in the chair in front of McCoy's computer console and tried to make himself comfortable.

"Computer, give me Pirates of Orion: The Game," he said. Video games were always relaxing.

-----------------------------------

Back on the bridge, everything appeared normal. Chekov hadn't yet had to speak, and he didn't think Kirk suspected anything. He hoped so, anyway.

"Ensign Chekov, you have the course plotted to Seti Olan Two?" the captain asked.

Chekov had plotted the course the day before, and Spock had probably checked the computer to be sure. Chekov wasn't surprised that the Vulcan answered immediately. "Yes, sair. eet ees ploted." Chekov almost gave a snort of laughed at the attempted accent. There was no way he sounded like that.

"Sulu, take us out, then," Kirk commanded. "Spock, what's the planet like down there?"

Chekov hit the button he supposed would give him information about the planet. Instead, a screen came up that asked if he would like to save his work before logging out. Slightly panicking, he canceled the action. He tried another button, and this time a rather lengthy report on the cleanliness of Federation Starbases appeared.

"Sorry, sir," Chekov said frantically, trying to control his accent while guessing which button to push next.

"Spock? You all right?" Kirk asked.

Chekov ignored the question. A tiny message screen had appeared in a corner. It was addressed to Spock from Chekov, which meant that the First Officer had sent it. The message specified the button. "Than you, Spock," Chekov murmured. He pressed the button and made his report.

"Cless M, but just barely, with an average temperature of negative four degrees Fahrenheit.Our destination for beaming down es in summer, so it will be about ten degrees.The planet es 60 percent water, but eet is mostly frozen. There is a primitive culture there, but they haff strong psychic powers. Ve- _We_- the Federation has visited there once before, about sixty years ago." 

As Chekov melted back into his seat, he had the feeling that he had just given a very bad report in school. He stared at his console, sure that all eyes were on him. He hoped he wasn't blushing. He stole a glance around the bridge. Despite the prickling in the back of his neck, no one was watching him. Still, he wondered what Spock thought of his performance.

Disaster, the First Officer thought. There was no way that Chekov would pass as Vulcan.

-----------------------------

Roberts's shift had ended shortly after lunch, as it had begun around two forty-five in the morning. Technically, Roberts was supposed to be napping.

And that's not a bad idea, McCoy realized. He wasn't tired, but his body--Roberts's body--felt sluggish. He laid down on the ensign's bunk, and his body fell asleep.

--------------------------

A few hours later, Roberts and Chekov were interrupted from their dinner. They had been sitting together at a table in the mess hall, wondering how they would ever fix this problem, when Kirk came up from behind them. He tapped them both smartly on the shoulder.

"Would you mind coming with me, Spock, McCoy? I think we need to talk about something."

Chekov and Roberts traded glances. Then Roberts shrugged. "Sure, uh... Jim."

"Let's go into my quarters," Kirk said.

Chekov and Roberts dumped their trays into the disposal slot and followed the captain. "What do you need to talk about?" Roberts asked. Chekov was wisely keeping quiet.

"I think you two have been acting kind of strange lately," Kirk said. "Spock, you seemed a bit... unorganized on the bridge. And Bones, Nurse Chapel told me you were being a bit odd today."

"You're imagining it," Roberts said quickly. Then he remembered something McCoy had told him. "Hallucinating. It must be about time for your physical." He grinned as wickedly as he could manage while still feeling dread in the pit of his stomach.

"You'll never leave me alone, will you?" Kirk laughed."Ah, I suppose that is the fate of a starship captain."

"I guess not, sir," Roberts agreed, forcing a laugh of his own.

"Sir?" Kirk asked."Bones, you've never called me sir. _This_ is what I was talking about. What's going on?"

"Perhaps the Doctor decided eet was time to acknowledge thet you are the Keptin," Chekov said. He had to keep himself from wincing at his accent.

Kirk laughed, but somewhat nervously this time. "I suppose so. ButSpock, you've been acting strange too. Kind of... Illogical. That was some report you gave me on the bridge. Are you okay? Your voice is beginning to sound like... Mr. Chekov."

Chekov paused. How to respond to that? Finally, he said, "I am not illogical. And I am certainly not Chekov!"

"Still, you don't sound like yourself," Kirk observed. "You really have a, uh, a Russian accent."

"It's not that thick!" Chekov exclaimed. _Everyone_ was obsessing over his accent these days.

"Spock?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, Keptin?"

"Keptin! What. Is. Going. On?" Kirk scowled at Chekov, who had a sudden urge to hide under a console. He opened his mouth to make some kind of excuse.

"Calm down, Jim," Roberts interrupted. Luckily, when talking to Chekov, Kirk had forgotten that Roberts had called him 'sir.'

"Bones! How can I calm down? I don't know what's going on!"

"Nothing's going on, Jim. This is, uh, an experiment."

Kirk looked at him dubiously. "An experiment?" he repeated.

"Yes," Roberts said, wimprovising fast, "Spock volunteered to, uh, to act like Mr. Chekov for a day and see how people reacted. Obviously, um, the reaction isn't good. Unfortunately, he can't break character or the experiment is ruined. And no one's supposed to know about it."

Roberts could see in his face that Kirk didn't believe this, but he turned to Chekov. "Spock, is this true?"

Chekov nodded. "Yes. It is."

------------------------------

Spock was walking down a corridor to get to the mess hall when a blonde woman in Security red caught up to him. "Pavel! There you are!"

"Who are you?" Spock said cautiously.

"What are you talking about?" the blonde girl asked. "I thought that after... last night... you would remember me." She giggled.

Spock forced his mouth into a rather awkward smile. Obviously this was Chekov's aforementioned girlfriend. "Kayla. Of course I know who you are. I was... joking."

Kayla Dunn smiled. "C'mon, lets go eat."

She pulled him along by the arm. Spock followed, helpless. "What do you want to share today?"

Spock didn't know how to answer. He wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about. "You decite," he said. His accent was no doubt awful, but Chekov's girlfriend didn't seem to notice. She dragged him into the mess hall.

"Okay, I'll decide then. How about. spaghetti and meatballs?"

"I do not want any meatballs," Spock said.

"Okay then," Kayla Dunn laughed again.

Spock chose to remain silent. He did not want to have dinner with Chekov's girlfriend, but that seemed to be the only way to maintain his character. Chekov had said if he was dragged anywhere by Kayla to play along. He just hadn't realized how literally Chekov had meant 'dragged.'

"Pavel what's wrong? I know something's wrong. You can tell me." She looked genuinely concerned, glancing up at him as she pulled a platter full of spaghetti from the replicator.

"There is nothing wrong. Let's eat."

Kayla had let go of Spock's arm to hold the dinner platter, so he followed her to a table. He stood awkwardly as she sat. Should he sit next to her? Across from her? This question was answered as she patted the chair next to her.

"Let's eat," she said.

Chekov's girlfriend was the driving force of the conversation, and Spock answered as bast he could. He excused himself after a few minutes.

That was disturbing, he thought as he walked to Chekov's quarters.

-----------------------

Roberts had blown up hundreds of ships, shot and stunned numerous Orions, and passed through numerous levels of Pirates of Orion: The Game when the doors swished open and Nurse Chapel stepped in.

"Sorry to disturb your reading,Doctor," she said. Then, "Ah. You're playing a video game."

"Pirates of Orion: The Game," Roberts corrected her.

"Oh. How... interesting," she said.

Roberts was aware that he wasn't acting like McCoy, but he was tired. He'd tried to sleep a bit, but McCoy's body was wide awake, so his mind had grown more fatigued as the day went on. Now he was sleepy enough that he didn't care that he acted like himself.

"Why don't you have a go?" he suggested, waving the controller in the nurse's general direction. Later he realized that she'd probably thought him drunk.

Nurse Chapel looked somewhat flustered for a moment, but then she shrugged. "Sure. All should be well in Sickbay without me."

Roberts reset the game so it had multiple player controls. Nurse Chapel began timidly, but it was obvious to Robrets that she was enjoying herself. Byt her first victory over the Orions, she was grinning and hitting the controls as hard as Roberts.

After about a half-hour of playing, a nurse walked in. She looked genuinely surprised to see Nurse Chapel whooping as she stunned an Orion.

"Why don't you join us?" Nurse Chapel asked. Roberts nodded.

"Okay." the nurse pulled up a chair. She was surprisingly good. She beat Roberts and Nurse Chapel in her first game.

Another nurse joined them, and then another. Then came a Security guard who had been in Sickbay. Then an ensign from the Science Division. Then another Security guard. And another nurse.

Soon they started some other games, including Empire of the Tribbles, Runaway Starship, and Romulan Chase.

It was a lot of fun.


	5. Psychic People Scare Me

Disclaimer: I STILL don't own Star Trek and probably never will.  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Five - "Psychic People Scare Me..."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Roberts woke up feeling very stiff. He was momentarily confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. Why wasn't he in his quarters? Where was he? And why did he feel so old? (A/N: Sorry, McCoy.)  
  
These thoughts flooded his brain before he was fully awake. As his mind moved away from the dream world and into reality he remembered everything.  
  
He was Doctor McCoy. And he was forty years old.  
  
That would explain the stiff feeling.  
  
He pulled himself out of bed, glad the chronometer said six-thirty instead of two-thirty. He wasn't a morning person.  
  
It was only when he was heading down to breakfast that he remembered he would have awoken at six-thirty today anyway. They were arriving at Seti Olan Two, and he was to be in the landing party.  
  
He groaned despite himself. McCoy would not make it.  
  
Unfortunately, he meant this quite literally. There was some unwritten law that if you wore a red-shirt and beamed down with a landing party, you would die.  
  
Roberts made it to the mess hall in what was most definitely less than record time. He found the table where Spock was sitting. McCoy wasn't there yet. Roberts wasn't sure why he felt a need to talk to McCoy, but he certainly wanted to.  
  
But as it was, Spock was to only one to talk to.  
  
"You look tired," Roberts commented.  
  
"This body is not accustomed to getting less than seven or eight hours of sleep."  
  
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Then McCoy walked in. He looked distinctly grumpy. Not grumpy as though he was mad, but grumpy in the It's-morning-and-I-wish-I-wasn't-awake type way. This was proven to be true as he sat down next Roberts and muttered something like "mmmnrrggmnn it's morning mnnmmmgg." (A/N: That's what I do in the morning ^_^.)  
  
"Good morning, Doctor," Spock said.  
  
"And now you decide to act human and say 'good morning.'"  
  
"Don't go," Roberts said suddenly, "Don't beam down to the planet."  
  
McCoy stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Why?"  
  
When it came down to this, Roberts wasn't sure what to say. Was it: You'll die because you're a red-shirt now?  
  
"Uh, it's dangerous." That definitely sounded bad.  
  
"Ensign," McCoy drawled, "I've been in more dangerous situations than you've had physicals. Don't you worry about me."  
  
Doctor McCoy obviously did not understand the danger of being a red-shirt. Roberts didn't think it would be wise to insist it was more dangerous wearing red then blue.  
  
Chekov entered looking very happy, which was rather odd to see on a Vulcan.  
  
"Chekov," McCoy hissed as Chekov sat down, "Stop grinning! And why are you so darn happy?"  
  
"I like being a Vulcan," Chekov said. His accent was barely noticeable.  
  
A horrible thought struck McCoy. What if they were actually turning into each other? What if Chekov was actually becoming Spock? This question was answered when Chekov said:  
  
"I stayed up half the night trying to talk and act like Mr. Spock and I'm not even tired! And. I like being strong like a Vulcan too."  
  
"That's great," McCoy said, "But not so loud. Would Spock be running around yelling 'I like being a Vulcan'? No."  
  
"I'm not running," Chekov said.  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. "You get the point. You're acting a bit too much like Spock for comfort."  
  
"Sorry." Chekov tried to remedy this with a large grin, but this time Spock put an end to it.  
  
"Much as I hate to agree vith the doctair, he ees right. You haff to stop smiling. But then, ecting like me does not seem so bed."  
  
"Spock? You are Spock, right?"  
  
"Doctor, who else would I be? Like Mr. Chekov, I have practiced acting out the part of my character. I take it I have done well?"  
  
McCoy nodded. Spock's Chekov-impressions were unnerving.  
  
"However, that was not the only thing that I did last night. I spent most of the time attempting to find information on our conditions."  
  
Chekov, McCoy, and Roberts exchanged glances. They had done nothing of the sort.  
  
Then McCoy said, "Well, did you find anything?"  
  
"There is very little information on situations such as these. However, I did find a scientist from the Vulcan Science Academy who is doing research on. moving the mind to different locations. I do not mean the physical brain. I am referring to whatever part of me in residing in Chekov at this moment. I sent her a message. I have yet to receive the reply."  
  
"Maybe this will be the end of this. No offense, Doctor, but I want my body back, real bad," Roberts said.  
  
"Amen."  
  
"I quite agree."  
  
Chekov didn't say anything.  
  
Kirk called the senior officers to the briefing room. McCoy was rather miffed at being left out, but no one would let an Anonymous Ensign (in other words, a red-shirt) into an important meeting such as this.  
  
As he grumped (is that a word?) in the Security corridors Roberts, Chekov, and Spock walked into the briefing room.  
  
Chekov and Spock both knew where the other usually sat, but Roberts was left wondering which seat was his. He took the vacant seat next to the captain.  
  
"So," Kirk said. "We're going to. beam down to the planet soon. So. is there. anything we should know? Bones? Spock?"  
  
Funny, Roberts had never noticed how the captain paused at random times when he made speeches. This fact was irrelevant, however, as he was supposed to tell the captain about the planet.  
  
"Uh, nothing that you should know," he said, hoping that there was, in fact, nothing that should be known.  
  
"For those of you who were not on the bridge when I gave my report, Olan Seti Two." Chekov went through what he had said on the bridge the day before, though in a more organized fashion. As he spoke, he couldn't help but marvel at the fact his accent was barely noticeable. He liked being Vulcan very much. Very, very much.  
  
"Okay then. I'll take. a landing party down to the surface. I'd like to take Mr. Spock and. Doctor McCoy, as well as. Ensign Chekov, Ensign Gold, and Ensign Roberts. Scotty, you'll have the conn. Dismissed, everyone. Spock, Bones, Chekov, come. with me."  
  
Kirk, Chekov, Spock, Roberts, McCoy and the remaining Anonymous Ensign met in the transporter room, where they were equipped with heavy jackets. It was winter on Seti Olan Two, which meant it was very cold.  
  
"You know," Kirk muttered to Chekov and Roberts, "I wasn't so sure about bringing you. You've been acting kind of strange lately. Actually, you've been acting very strange. And that time I tried to talk to you, you both ran out as fast as you could."  
  
"I was not running, Captain," Chekov said. Why did everyone think he spent so much time running around?  
  
"Well, I can see you're back to normal. That was definitely a Spock comment. But still."  
  
"Jim. Calm down. There's nothing wrong with us. Well, if you count having green blood normal, anyway." McCoy had said to argue. And even if he hadn't, Roberts knew there were always insults flying between the doctor and the Vulcan. Who didn't?  
  
"Back to normal," Kirk laughed.  
  
The six landing party members (who, by some coincidence, include our four main characters) stepped onto the six transporter pads. They heard the familiar whirring of the transporter, and were suddenly.  
  
.very cold. Though they had their jackets, there was a wind that seemed determined to slice through any obstacle that got in its way.  
  
There was one downside to being Vulcan, Chekov thought. You got cold easier. Of course, he should be able to avoid the cold for most of the time he got to spend in Spock's body.  
  
Chekov realized something just then. He did not mind being in this body. True, it was annoying to have to act like Spock all the time, but he loved the strength, the agility, and the endurance.  
  
"Mr. Spock. Can you tell me the direction of the nearest settlement?"  
  
Chekov was jerked out of his thoughts by Kirk's question. He fumbled with his tricorder for a moment, then pointed in the direction it indicated.  
  
The landing party began to slog through the snow towards the 'nearest settlement.' It did not take long to get there, though everyone was thoroughly frozen by the time they did.  
  
There was no one on the streets in the settlement. It was eerily silent, all but the whistling of the wind through and around a few igloo-like huts.  
  
"They probably know we're here," McCoy whispered to Spock, "With their psychic powers and all. Psychic people scare me sometimes. I hope these aren't the intruders-oh-let's-kill-them kind."  
  
As if on cue, Ensign Gold screamed and fell, then began to twitch on the ground.  
  
"What the heck was that?!" McCoy yelled.  
  
"Phasers on stun," Kirk said.  
  
Suddenly their phasers were gone. (Of course. It wouldn't be Star Trek if they hadn't.)  
  
But there was no one to stun. The streets were still deserted. McCoy dropped down beside Gold, ignoring the fact he didn't look like himself.  
  
"He's dead," he muttered.  
  
Suddenly (as always) there was a voice reverberating through their heads.  
  
"What if we don't want to?" Kirk asked bravely.  
  
Roberts winced. The next one to go would be a red-shirt. In other words, Doctor McCoy.  
  
"We should go," he advised Kirk.  
  
The captain looked uncertain for a moment, then he nodded. "You're right, Bones. They can obviously kill any of us at any time. Let's not provoke them."  
  
The 'way of blue ice' was easy to follow, as it was a blue steak running through the snow beneath them. It took a curving path around the igloo huts and through the snow. It finally led them to what came as something of a surprise.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Well, not nothing, but just another igloo hut. The blue ice made its way into the small round opening. The landing party all had to crawl on their hands and knees to get through.  
  
They were met inside by what looked like a small, blue-white Terran walrus. Upon a closer examination, Spock saw that instead of tusks it harbored long fangs, and instead of front flippers there were short, stubby hands.  
  
The voice in their minds was back. the walrus-thing said,  
  
Kirk looked surprised. He was rarely told by psychic aliens to bug off.  
  
"Jim, just go! We'll be fine!" McCoy said.  
  
Kirk didn't bother to wonder why Ensign Roberts was acting like his Chief Medical Officer. He had to go. He had to.  
  
The walrus-thing looked as satisfied as a walrus can. These 'humans' were easy to control. Especially the Jim-one. But the Jim-one didn't matter.  
  
The walrus thing gave a mental command to two other walrus things: Of course she was obeyed. She was always obeyed.  
  
The two walrus things appeared from a lower igloo hut level. They held knives. Dangerous-looking knives. Without a word (or a thought in the minds of the four) they ushered the humans (and Vulcan) to an opening in the wall. It turned out to be a chute entirely comprised of ice. They each slid down, landing on hard rock and slippery ice. The walrus-thing seemed to vanish.  
  
It had, in fact, been taken to the room where the original walrus thing had met the landing party. The walrus thing gave the other one more command.  
  
So, just as the remnants of the landing party had finally gotten themselves sorted out, everything went black. 


	6. Trapped

Disclaimer: Ka boo [own] [Star Trek] wah! Ka boo [like.] (That was furbish.) [If] unye [think] Ka [own] [Star Trek], unye dah [stupid] wah! Boo eday. [Star Trek] boo Ka's. Hee hee. Wah.  
  
Reviewer Replies  
  
I love reviews. Please write some and make me happy.  
  
Broken Infinity: I don't need puppy dog eyes, I want to continue it ^_^! SO here's chapter 6.  
  
Moonless night writer: I'm not trying to pick on McCoy, but there's only four characters to pick on. Someone told me not to hurt Pavel or else. Chekov isn't really becoming more like Spock, he's just acting. He's starting to like being Vulcan a bit too much. But that'll come up later.  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Six - Trapped  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Spock woke up first. His head ached and he was cold. As he drifted further into consciousness, he was aware of a bit more than that.  
  
First of all, he was still in the room the chute had brought him to, but the chute itself had all but disappeared. It was filled with rock and ice, and it didn't seem as though it would be very useful in the way of escaping.  
  
The walls were bare . They appeared to be made of ice, but with metal bars lodged within. It was hard to see what was outside, but it looked like a combination of snow, ice, and rock. There would be no way of escaping through them. That left only the floor, which was solid rock.  
  
They would have to wait until the walrus-things opened up a way for them to leave.  
  
Second, the fall from the chute had twisted the ankle of this Chekov-body, and that hurt too. Humans were simply not as strong as Vulcans.  
  
Spock sat down against a wall to wait for his comrades to wake up. However, as the wall was made of ice, it began to melt and soak his jacket.  
  
A thought flashed through his mind. Could they somehow melt the ice and escape?  
  
No, there were the metal bars. And they were probably underground. He answered his own question almost as soon as he thought of it.  
  
He walked over the center of the room, where he would at least not have to lean against the ice.  
  
Finally, after a few minutes, Chekov began to stir. He groaned, than lifted his head up.  
  
"Does your head hurt es much es mine?" he said, his accent back. It seemed to have been reborn in the confusion of all that had happened.  
  
"That is an illogical question," Spock said. He would have to know how much pain Chekov was in to answer.  
  
Chekov sighed loudly and dramatically. "Vhere are ve?"  
  
"I am assuming we are still on Seti Olan Two. We are in a cell of some sort."  
  
"Observant," Chekov muttered sarcastically under his breath, knowing that with human ears Spock wouldn't be able to hear him.  
  
Doctor McCoy awoke next. He put a hand to his head.  
  
"Well," he muttered, "It looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."  
  
He sat up, and looked around confusedly. "No, Kansas is much warmer. And my head hurts."  
  
Only silence. McCoy looked irritably at everyone but Roberts, who was still lying on the ground where he had fallen.  
  
"So. why don't we talk or something? It's bad enough we're stuck here. Do we have to be stuck here in silence? Does anyone know what's going on? Where are we? Where's Jim? Can we contact the ship? Is everyone okay? C'mon, people, talk!"  
  
"Doctor, we know as much as you do. We are in a cell of some sort on Seti Olan Two. I do not know where the captain is at this moment. I doubt we will be able to contact the ship. I believe we are, for the most part, 'okay.'" There was an obvious sigh in Spock's voice.  
  
"You doubt we can contact the ship.? Oh wait, my communicator's gone."  
  
"Mine too," Chekov said ruefully.  
  
"As is mine."  
  
They sat in silence for a little while longer, and then Roberts began to move. He sat up slowly, saying things that will not be repeated because of the G- rating of this story.  
  
"So what's the story?" he finally asked.  
  
"We're stuck here and we can't talk to the ship." McCoy didn't bother to elaborate.  
  
Roberts swore again.  
  
"So what do we do?" Roberts persisted.  
  
"Don't you think that if we knew we would tell you?" McCoy said irritably.  
  
"Well, I'm sor-ry. Yeah, I'm so sorry that I ask bad questions after I wake up from being knocked out by something I can't see and wake up and I'm still old and there's nothing I can do and you treat me like I'm stupid anyway-"  
  
"Ensign. That's quite enough," Spock said in his best no-nonsense voice.  
  
"And what is this about me being old? I'm only-"  
  
"Twenty years older than me!"  
  
"It's not my fault you're-"  
  
"Ensign! Doctor! This is quite illogical. Please stop bickering." Spock sounded stressed, but the tone in his voice made Roberts and even McCoy cease arguing. "We are trapped here. Arguing will only make the situation worse."  
  
"Yes sir," Roberts said, the sigh in his voice rather obvious.  
  
"Much as I hate to agree, you're right. If this is what it takes, I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, Ensign."  
  
This put Roberts in a strange situation. It's easy to be mad at someone who refuses to apologize and continues to argue. But when they simply say 'sorry', you only make a fool of yourself by trying to keep going. So Roberts was forced to say, "Sorry sir."  
  
"Well, now that that's over," McCoy said in a voice to cheerful to be real, "What the heck are we going to do?"  
  
"I have examined our cage. The only exit appears to be the chute in which we came through, but it is block with debris."  
  
"Now that just might present a problem," McCoy said, "But do you think there might be any way we could unblock it? Maybe the whole chute isn't blocked up. It wouldn't hurt to try."  
  
"Logical. How do you think we should attempt this?"  
  
"Well, I suppose Chekov could stand on your shoulders or mine and try to loosen up the rock with that new Vulcan strength of his."  
  
"That should work. However, Mr. Chekov should stand on your shoulders, as you are most likely the second strongest at this time."  
  
"Okay. You got all that, Chekov?"  
  
Chekov nodded.  
  
McCoy crouched down, inviting Chekov to step onto his shoulders. Spock and Roberts came to his side to help Chekov balance on McCoy's shoulders. They helped the Russian Vulcan to a point where he could stand up quickly and brace himself on the ceiling.  
  
Chekov knew he had to do his work quickly. His Vulcan fingers, even through the gloves he was wearing, felt like they were freezing. He started by digging his hands through the loose crushed ice that was around one of the rocks that blocking their only escape. He pulled on it, hard.  
  
Nothing happened. He pulled even harder.  
  
In fact, he pulled so hard that he lost his grip on the rock and lost his grip. He came tumbling down from McCoy's shoulders, nearly landing on Spock.  
  
"It deedn't vork," he informed his companions, though it was rather obvious.  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes, but Spock said, "Perhaps you should try it again."  
  
Chekov tried to move the rock again with no success. The only thing he did differently was manage to not come close to hitting Spock on the way down.  
  
"It still deedn't vork," Chekov said.  
  
Even Spock let out something that resembled a sigh. "That is rather obvious."  
  
"What do we do now?" McCoy asked.  
  
Roberts glared at him. It was perfectly fine if McCoy asked dumb questions. But no, when he asked what they were about to do, he got yelled at. True, they were his superior officers, but this was stupid!  
  
While Roberts was thinking rebellious thoughts, Spock was talking.  
  
"There appear to be no other escape routes, so the logical course of action is to wait until they come to check on us. Then, we can act."  
  
"But vhat if they don't come to check on us?" Chekov asked.  
  
"If their plan was to let us die here, surely they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing us here. It would have been much simpler to merely kill us the way they did Ensign Gold. Therefor, they plan to do something with us. There is an eighty-four-point-nine-three-two chance that they will come to us in order to do whatever it is they plan to do."  
  
"When I understand that, I'm sure I'll contribute to the conversation. For the mean time, you're basically saying they should check on us because they went through too much trouble getting us here to let us die?"  
  
"Yes, Doctor. I believe that is what I said."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They sat in silence for the next few minutes. Four-point-three-one-eight, to be exact, thought no one but Spock cared.  
  
"So what are we going to do?" McCoy asked, breaking the silence.  
  
"We will wait until the inhabitants of Seti Olan Three come to us. Then, surely we shall be able to devise some sort of plan."  
  
A few more minutes passed. It was Chekov who broke the silence this time.  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
Everyone but Spock nodded their consent. He could go on for a few more days without sustenance, though he would certainly prefer to eat before then.  
  
"I wonder when they feed us," Roberts said.  
  
"If they feed us."  
  
"Doctair, sure they vill." Chekov sounded devastated by the thought of not eating.  
  
"We don't know much about these aliens. For all we know, they eat rock and ice and expect us to eat through the chute we came down to get here. So they may not feed us. But let's not think about that. Let's assume we get fed sometime soon."  
  
"Doctor, that is illog-"  
  
"Shut up, Spock," McCoy snapped.  
  
They had not been in the cell for long and already they were at each other's throats. None of them wanted to think of what it would be like in a few days.  
  
Hopefully they wouldn't still be in the cell in another few days.  
  
Hopefully. 


	7. The Melted Watcher

Disclaimer: Ah dinna own Star Trek, laddie.  
  
Reviewer Replies  
  
Unrealistic: I'm glad you read it, and even gladder you think it's hilarious. I will continue happily typing.  
  
Tavia: Yes, I posted a ton at once. I was visiting my grandparents and I couldn't connect my computer to the Internet. But I kept typing and then posted everything when I got back. I'm very happy you liked it.  
  
mzsnaz: Actually, Spockov came from my email address. I hope they talk to each other again, that would make Star Trek quite interesting!  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Seven - The Melted Watcher  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
By the time a whole day had passed, McCoy was all but tearing out his hair. There was nothing to do, nothing to talk about, nothing to even think about. Every once in a while, Roberts of Chekov would begin a conversation about something stupid, like some new video game (which McCoy cared nothing for), but before the conversation got anywhere the noise became so irritating McCoy snapped at them to shut up.  
  
He hated the silence, but noise was irritating as well. Spock had sunk into some sort of Vulcan meditation, Roberts had fallen asleep, and Chekov was staring at the wall.  
  
McCoy just wanted to do something. Anything.  
  
He stood up, just to stretch his legs. He walked over to the wall and leaned against it. He was stretching his legs. He just wasn't walking around.  
  
The wetness on his back from the melting ice was annoying, but standing there just feeling the growing wet spot on his back gave him something to do.  
  
-  
  
Far above him, the walrus-like inhabitant of Seti Olan Two gurgled in annoyance. She had set up a Watcher to monitor what the captives were doing, but now the one called MuhKoi had gone and leaned his back against it.  
  
It was certainly interesting to watch the prisoners. The Watcher was a psychic connection between her and a certain patch of ice. It was a very useful psychic connection.  
  
But now she was worried. These captives- MuhKoi, S'Pok, ChehCov, and RohBertz- had so much body heat. They could melt the Watcher ice. Then she would have to go down and visit them herself to make a new Watcher.  
  
MuhKoi melted the last of the Watcher.  
  
The walrus-thing glurghed as hard as she could (A/N: Glurgh: Say glurgh, but sort of gurgle in the middle of it.) and sent a message to three others.  
  
The walrus-thing slid down the chute, mentally loosening the debris she had blocked it with. She slid into the cell to meet four very confused humans.  
  
Had he believed in luck, Spock would have felt rather unlucky. The reason for his possible absence of luck had started when Chekov had nearly landed on him. Then hours later, a veritable amount of ice and rock from the chute followed by a walrus-like alien did land on him.  
  
It shocked him out of his meditation, mostly because either the rock or the walrus alien (or maybe both) had broken his leg. It had already been weak from falling into the cell, but this had done it. Human bodies were so weak sometimes.  
  
There was also the fact that while the aliens were smaller than walruses, they were still large and heavy. Very heavy.  
  
He half-crawled, half-inched his way over to the wall and leaned against it. Luckily, being in Chekov's body did little to his ability to control pain. He did not know, however, if a healing trance would still work.  
  
He maintained a calm face as the walrus-like thing spoke. The first part, Spock was sure, was only in his mind.  
  
"Say what?" McCoy asked, though he was itching to go over and see if Spock was all right.  
  
"We're here because we wanted to know about your planet," McCoy said. At this point, the prime directive did not mean very much. Anyway, they were obviously not from Seti Olan Two.  
  
Chekov and Roberts kept silent. This was the kind of thing senior officers were supposed to handle.  
  
"We do not." It was Spock who had spoken this time.  
  
The walrus-thing glubbed happily. (A/N: "Glulp! Glulp!") She turned to the three others and said,   
  
But to the humans (and Vulcan) she said, She would get rid of them now. But she couldn't kill them. She was connected to them now.  
  
Well, she couldn't kill them in the normal way.  
  
For she had sneezed. It was not a sneeze like a Terran would make. It was in her mind, and it reached out to the minds that matched and changed them. Switched them.  
  
The only way to fix the sneeze was to destroy what it had changed, using an ancient method.  
  
Torture.  
  
"I cannot come with you," Spock said calmly.  
  
The walrus-alien thought at him irritably. She wanted to rid herself of the products of her sneeze.  
  
"You broke my leg." Spock made this sound like he was commenting on the weather, not talking about painful injuries.  
  
The walrus-thing didn't know how to respond to this. She sighed (well, the walrus-thing equivalent) to herself.  
  
I will take you one at a time then. By the time you, S'Pok, are the only one left, you will be able to come.   
  
Roberts knew what was coming next. Normally he would be petrified, because he would be a red-shirt. But now McCoy was the red-shirt, and there was that unwritten law that red-shirts died first...  
  
Sure enough, the walrus-like aliens who had accompanied the first one grabbed McCoy. Roberts watched his own body disappear with the aliens.  
  
This would have struck Roberts as funny if some strange aliens hadn't just dragged off Dr. McCoy. Who knew what they were going to do with him?  
  
-  
  
McCoy was in the process of wishing very hard that he knew what was going to happen to him. The walrus-things were very strong with their stubby hands, and their grip was icy cold.  
  
He had no idea where he was, because they hadn't brought him up through the chute; they had simply disappeared. He had no idea why they hadn't just appeared in the cell. It would have made it easier for Spock, in any case.  
  
Or would it? Because if Spock hadn't gotten hurt, all four of them would have been taken along with McCoy...  
  
This was too confusing.  
  
McCoy was brought into a dark room. All he could see in the darkness was glints of what he supposed was ice.  
  
But as light entered the chamber from somewhere he couldn't see, it became obvious that the glinting objects were not composed of frozen water.  
  
They were weapons.  
  
Not high-tech weapons either. It was a collection of daggers, knives and swords. Jagged edges, curved edges, straight edges, but all of them sharp edges.  
  
the walrus-thing commanded.  
  
McCoy felt an over-powering urge to lay down on a stone table in the middle of the room. He fought it, but the more he resisted the more he wanted to lie on the table. He finally gave up and sat on it.  
  
There was still the need to lie down. So, tired of resisting, McCoy complied.  
  
He felt immediate relief upon lying down, but there was a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.  
  
The fact that one of the walrus-things had picked up a dagger didn't help the feeling.  
  
The dagger was a nice one; it had a hilt that appeared to be made of some sort of black metal and a short, gleaming blade that looked very sharp.  
  
The walrus thing raised the dagger over McCoy's head.  
  
So this was the end.  
  
The walrus-thing brought the blade swooshing down.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Hehe, evil cliffhanger! Well, I suppose it would be eviller if I stopped writing, but as it is, the next chapter will probably come out in a day or two. But anyway, now you can wonder just what will happen to Doctor McCoy... 


	8. oh my god he was only here for a haircut

Disclaimer: Now wouldn't it be nice if I owned Star Trek. Paramount does. *Sniff sniff* Oh, well, on with the story.  
  
A/N: It's 12:50AM so if my brain is dead that's why. But I might as enjoy these last late-nights of summer before school starts. ^_^  
  
A/N2: Now I could be annoying and start the chapter off in the cell and not say what happens to Dr. McCoy until later, or I could be nice and tell you right off the bat. I think I'll be annoying.  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Eight - ...oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god...  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"So what do we do?" Roberts asked shortly after McCoy was taken away.  
  
Chekov shrugged, and then realized his mistake. "I think we should help Mr. Spock."  
  
Roberts nodded, but as Doctor McCoy had been taken, none of them knew exactly how to help Spock. He wasn't helping, anyway. He seemed to have gone back into that meditation-state he had been in while they had been waiting for something to happen.  
  
Roberts and Chekov exchanged glances. A moment later Spock opened his eyes.  
  
"Sir?" Roberts ventured.  
  
Chekov watched himself say, "The Vulcan healing trance seems to have little effect on this body."  
  
"Uh," he said. But he couldn't help but feel glad he was Vulcan now. This was his body that was weak, that wouldn't heal like a Vulcan. He knew he had gotten the better end of the bargain. He didn't need or want his body back.  
  
Once he had thought it, he felt ashamed for a moment. He would have to take his body back eventually.  
  
But then he realized, no, he didn't. They still didn't know how to switch back, and there was a good chance they would never learn. And then it wouldn't be such a bad thing to stay Spock.  
  
He dared to think it again.  
  
I don't want my body back.  
  
He realized all too late that Roberts was talking to him.  
  
"Hello-o, Pavel, wake up." Roberts waved his hand in front of Chekov's vision.  
  
Chekov had been staring into space as he sorted his thoughts out in his mind.  
  
"Vhat?" he asked. But then, if he were to stay Spock, we would have to ditch the accent, if he could. "What?" he said again.  
  
"Spock says we don't need to help him right now." Roberts spoke slowly, as if talking to a child.  
  
"Vh- What is he going to do?"  
  
"Have you been listening at all?"  
  
"No," Chekov admitted.  
  
"Well, he's just going to wrap it up and stuff since the Vulcan thing won't work. You know, Starfleet procedure number- oh who cares."  
  
"Oh." Chekov felt decidedly stupid. "I missed all thet?"  
  
Roberts rolled his eyes.  
  
-  
  
(A/N: And now back to McCoy, who if you remember we left with a blade swishing down over his head.)  
  
McCoy was too shocked to even scream. He waited for the blade to bite into his face, for the blood to pour out, for those few agonizing moments before he died.  
  
And for the strangest reason, he was also thinking about the last time he had eaten dinner.  
  
Instead of chopping his head open, the blade cut off a large chunk of Ensign Roberts' jet-black hair.  
  
The walrus-thing proceeded to cut McCoy's (well, it's Roberts' if you think about it) hair into a something reminiscent of a crew cut.  
  
The walrus-alien threw the hair into a chute smaller than the one McCoy had entered the cell through. But at the moment, he didn't care much. He was alive.  
  
McCoy felt his sigh of relief had been heard on Earth. There had been no pain oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god that was close...  
  
Then he did feel pain. A lot of it. The walrus thing had cut off the very tip of his left pointer finger.  
  
Suddenly the chute in which the hair had been thrown looked very inviting. Whilst it was far to small for a walrus alien to fit through, McCoy was fairly sure he would be able to slide down. Hopefully it would let out somewhere that he could escape from. Well, anything better than to stay here while an alien cut him apart bit by bit.  
  
All this thought occurred in a time span of about a tenth of a second. After that, his decision made, McCoy ignored the urge to stay on the table. He leapt up and took a running jump into the chute.  
  
He fell quickly, picking up speed as he went. He thought he passed an opening or two or maybe three but he couldn't be sure. All he could think about at the moment was the fact that his finger hurt a lot.  
  
The chute also hurt, as it was lined with rocks and ice. After what felt like an eternity of falling the tunnel began to level out. It finally stopped against a wall of thick ice peppered with stone and thick metal bars stretching up and down..  
  
McCoy could do nothing but nurse his finger for a moment. Poor Roberts. When he got his body back it would be missing part of a finger.  
  
Blood was spattering down McCoy's coat from the wound, and he knew he had to stop the bleeding quickly. He wished he had his medikit, but he didn't even remember if Roberts had brought it or not. So instead he ripped off the very bottom of his red shirt and wrapped the strip of cloth tightly around the wound.  
  
A nice reminder of what it meant to be a redshirt.  
  
Something he saw out of the corner of his eye made him stare into the sheet of ice in front of him. There were people moving behind it.  
  
That's when it struck him that there were only three humans and one Vulcan on the whole planet. So behind here must be Spock, Chekov, and Roberts.  
  
McCoy pounded on the ice with his undamaged hand, hoping to get the attention of those within.  
  
Instead of anyone hitting the ice back, or shouting through it, someone came up and leaned on it.  
  
McCoy was annoyed that no one had answered him until he realized what the person on the other side of the ice was doing. He was melting it.  
  
McCoy leaned on it from his side. Melting it from both ways would make It go faster.  
  
-  
  
About a minute earlier. In the cell.  
  
Spock was busy wrapping his leg in the few bandages that could be found in Roberts' medikit, but Chekov and Roberts had nothing to do.  
  
So they were the ones who noticed the thud coming from the other side of the cell wall.  
  
There was a "What (and a 'Vhat') was that?" from both ensigns.  
  
It was Chekov who first noticed that the shape on the other side was humanoid, and it was Chekov again who decided to melt the ice.  
  
Twenty long minutes later, there was a small hole in the ice wall.  
  
"Doctor!" Chekov exclaimed.  
  
"Yes, it's me," said McCoy, though he too was feeling rather joyous at being reunited with his comrades (A/N: Okay, I'm scaring myself now. '...rather joyous at being reunited...' I guess when it's late [early, eheh, 1:04] I stop writing like a thirteen-year-old...)  
  
Yeah... Back to the story. Where was I?  
  
"Yes, it's me, now will you help me break through this ice so I can squeeze in here? I think I can fit through the bars."  
  
For Chekov, who had Vulcan strength, it was a simple matter to drive one shoulder into the ice. Crystalline shards of frozen h2o hit McCoy in the face, and he scurried back in the tunnel as much as he could.  
  
In a second, it was over.  
  
The hole wasn't very big, and it was in beetween two of the metal bars, but Roberts would fit through it, so McCoy (as Roberts, of course, we mustn't forget that!) was able to crawl through.  
  
Everyone (except Spock, who was somewhat busy) looked extremely relieved at seeing him here.  
  
The first question he received, when his still-bleeding hand dripped blood through his makeshift bandage onto the floor was:  
  
"What happened to you?"  
  
McCoy sighed. "I'm sorry, Ensign, but when you get your body back it'll be missing something." McCoy related what had happened to him since he was taken away by the walrus-alien.  
  
Spock finally spoke.  
  
"Doctor, you may want to bandage your hand using real bandages, not your shirt." He handed McCoy what was left of the bandages he had been using.  
  
"Never mind that," McCoy said as he took the bandages from Spock. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"  
  
The Eyebrow, well, Chekov's eyebrow, rose. "Doctor, I believe you were here when the alien landed on me and beyond that am obviously not 'okay.'"  
  
McCoy sighed theatrically. "I mean, how much damage was inflicted upon your system when the walrus-like entity fell onto you from the chute?"  
  
"I broke my leg. I believe I had mentioned that while you were still with us."  
  
"Well I forgot, okay?"  
  
Spock stood up shakily. He tested his leg by putting weight on it. He winced, but it didn't collapse under him.  
  
"Spock. What are you doing?"  
  
"We now have a way to escape. I am testing my broken limb because in order to climb up the tunnel you fell through, surely I will need it."  
  
McCoy's eyes lit up. He had had so much on his mind he had completely forgotten that they could escape through the chute.  
  
He quickly bandaged his finger and crouched down at the opening to the tunnel and crawled through. Chekov and Roberts did the same, though Spock (as much as he obviously hated it) needed help. But they pulled him through in the end.  
  
Though they were looking up at what would be a next to impossible climb, McCoy saw only one thing.  
  
A chance to escape. 


	9. The Tunnel

Disclaimer: Q: What don't I own? A: Star Trek!  
  
Reviewer Replies:  
  
Broken Infinity: Thank you for (im)patiently waiting... Here is some more. And if you want to know if they become themselves again, you'll have to read. And review. Mwa ha ha ha.  
  
Yami-chan and Unrealistic: Well, the walrus people do make sense. I mean, who else would live on a cold, icy planet? Walruses. Strange, you don't say Walri, like Octopi, but that's the English languge. The only reason Kirk went away is that I don't like Kirk much, and I didn't want him in the story. Happy Typing to you too.  
  
eagle feather 101: Sorry, I'm not Spockov anymore. I started out as I-am- bug and I decided I wanted to stay that way. Anyway, I guess I am energetic. Mostly because writing is a break in my boredom. I'm WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITING.  
  
Bookey Hooper: Hmm, you already got the logical ice cube... I was bored... Oh. Lapse in logic like that time I yelled at my computer and then recovered logically... Okay. He he.  
  
Ariennye: I'm glad you like it, Romulan one. Is it evil?  
  
-  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Nine - The Tunnel  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
The tunnel did go a long way up. McCoy had almost forgotten how far he had fallen/slid. As it became more vertical, McCoy was almost glad of the cold. He constantly had ice on his finger.  
  
Chekov was freezing, as he was Vulcan, and Roberts was getting tired, as he was McCoy, but that was the least of their problems.  
  
It was becoming apparent that Spock wouldn't make it.  
  
They were basically climbing up the chute now, grasping the rocks that were strewn throughout it. But Spock, who was last in line, was beginning to lag behind. His broken leg was trailing uselessly behind him, and his face was bone white with pain.  
  
(A/N: I should eat something today. It's 2:04 already. I guess that's what I get or getting up a quarter to twelve. I forgot about food. Okay, you didn't need to know that so I'll shut up and go eat. )  
  
Well, back to the story.  
  
McCoy knew that Spock would say something heroic about how they should leave him behind because he was slowing them up, and it would happen very soon.  
  
It came a few minutes after McCoy's initial thought.  
  
"Doctor, I suggest you leave me here. I cannot go on much further." His tone was level, but his voice was gravelly.  
  
"Darn it, Spock. I'm not leaving you here."  
  
"Obviously... I would not linger in this tunnel. I would go back to the cell."  
  
"That's. Not. What. I. Meant. I'm not having much fun here either. Just deal with it... for a little longer anyway. I know passed a few opening. We'll reach one soon." I hope. McCoy didn't say this last part out loud, but everyone could see that it was implied.  
  
"Doctor... you don't understand. I am unable to continue much further."  
  
"No!" He looked down to see Chekov's determined face.  
  
Funny, he had almost expected to see Spock the Vulcan, not Spock the Chekov.  
  
"Actually, I think we're coming up on one of those exits now. Soon, anyway," McCoy lied. Anything to keep Spock going.  
  
"Doctor..."  
  
Spock looked close to fainting, but there wasn't much anyone could do. They had to keep going. Maybe there was an exit coming up.  
  
As McCoy toiled on, he tried to imagine just what Spock was feeling and tried to ignore what he was feeling.  
  
His finger hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. Okay, that was exaggerating a bit, but it hurt a lot. Grabbing rough rocks in the cold didn't help.  
  
He was not doing a very good job of not thinking of it.  
  
Then Spock passed out. As McCoy was in the front of the line, there was nothing he could do. Chekov was the one in front of Spock.  
  
And Chekov was the one with Vulcan reflexes.  
  
He reached down and caught his body before it fell.  
  
"Chekov! You caught him! Oh, God!"  
  
"Yes," Chekov said, "But now vhat? I ken't hold him forewer."  
  
"Uh," McCoy said. He was the commanding officer now. He got to make all the decisions.  
  
Huh. Got to. As if this was a privilege.  
  
"Uh, can you climb holding onto him? For a little while longer?"  
  
"I think so," Chekov said. He didn't sound very sure.  
  
They climbed up the shaft (for that's what it was now. It was just about vertical) until McCoy saw what he had been looking for this whole time. There was an opening.  
  
Without a word, he climbed through. Without a word, but with a huge sigh of relief. He helped Roberts climb through, and together they hauled Spock and Chekov through the opening.  
  
Only then did he look at his surroundings. He was in the room where he had lost most of his hair and the tip of his finger. Only it was deserted now. The walrus-things must have gone to look for him, not expecting him to come back here.  
  
He heaved yet another sigh of relief, then walked over to where Chekov and Roberts had set Spock down on the stone table in the middle of the room. Just the sight of it made him wince, but he was the Chief Medical Officer.  
  
"Give me the medikit," he commanded Roberts.  
  
"Uh," the ensign said, "I think I... I think I left it in the cell."  
  
"How could you be so STUPID?" McCoy hissed. He knew better than to yell, but he was only this far away from exploding. He was hungry, thirsty, in pain, and very frustrated. And Roberts had forgotten the one thing that might actually help. "Sorry."  
  
"Sorry? You're sorry?" McCoy gestured to Spock, who lay motionless on the table, then held up his own hand. Blood from his wound had soaked through the bandages already. "Oh my god."  
  
(A/N: At this point, both the charger upper for my laptop and the batter of my laptop have died. This next part I was forced to write on... paper... erk...)  
  
Roberts looked frightened, and McCoy wondered just how much he had scared the ensign with his tirade.  
  
Instead of waiting to find out, McCoy decided to check on Spock, who was presently out cold on the stone table. Actually, the fact that Spock was still out wasn't a good sign. McCoy was sure he needed to examine Spock's leg. True, he wouldn't be able to tell as much as he would have liked without the medikit, but he would know more than Spock.  
  
The bandages were somewhat sloppy, and McCoy unwrapped them carefully. He didn't want to do any more damage than was already done.  
  
Spock knew very little of human physiology. Normally this wasn't a particularly bad thing. Spock was not (usually) one himself, and as a Science Officer he rarely had to treat any humans in the line of duty.  
  
McCoy tutted. Spock had wrapped the bandages tightly in order to keep his leg in place. This in itself was not a bad thing. It was where he had tried to hold it in place. Because of his lack of knowledge of humans, he could have ruined Chekov's leg.  
  
McCoy was fairly sure that when Chekov got his body back he wouldn't like that.  
  
-  
  
While McCoy treated Spock, Chekov and Roberts had nothing to do. They stood watch at the entrance to the chamber, but as there was no one there and they wouldn't be able to do anything even if there was, the ensigns had resorted to complaining. Or rather, Roberts had resorted to complaining.  
  
"I'm hungry," he remarked.  
  
"I'm not," Chekov said brightly. "I em a Wulcan, and Wulcans can go a long time vithout food." He finished this comment rather smugly."  
  
"Oh." Roberts didn't sound particularly impressed. "Well, at least you got be a Vulcan. Me, I'm stuck as an old guy."  
  
"Don't tell Doctair McCoy," Chekov advised. "Anyvay, Wulcans live long too. So ewen though Mr. Spock is almost es old as the Doctair, it doesn't feel like it."  
  
"Lucky you."  
  
For a few moments they said nothing. Chekov was lost in his thoughts of Vulcanness, and Roberts was lost in his thoughts of I wish I wasn't Doctor McCoy. Then Chekov surprised by Roberts by saying:  
  
"I don't vant my body beck."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just look at thet." Chekov pointed to his body. Spock had begun to wake up and had raised himself up on one elbow. He appeared to be talking to Doctor McCoy.  
  
"That's not so bad. I'm sure when we get out of here the Doctor'll be able to fix his- your- oh I don't know, whoever's leg."  
  
"But look at me now." Chekov allowed time for Roberts to look at him before he continued. "I haff so much strength now. So much power. Thet's pitiful. I mean, it would be better if he hadn't gone and broken my leg, but still. I don't vant to chenge beck."  
  
"It was Mr. Spock's leg at the time. And Pavel. You're not even Russian anymore."  
  
If Roberts thought this would sway his friend, he was wrong.  
  
"But I em. Not my body. But I am in here." Chekov tapped his head, and then where he supposed his heart was. He was adamant on this point.  
  
Roberts sighed. Chekov could be strange sometimes. "Whatever you say."  
  
-  
  
On the other side of the room, Spock was doing his best to take a few steps. (A/N: For some reason that made me thing of a baby's first steps, which made me think of Huggies, which made me think of the song that goes 'I'm a big kid now!' Maybe it's an omen.) They were limping, halting steps, but at least he was walking.  
  
"We should leave," he said.  
  
McCoy eyed him dubiously. Spock had grabbed his arm for support, and he was leaning rather heavily on McCoy.  
  
You really don't look up to it. Please explain your logic," McCoy finished dryly.  
  
Spock looked pleasantly surprised that McCoy had finally taken an interest in logic. In other words, he had missed the sarcasm completely.  
  
"The tunnel we escaped through leads only to the small hollow in the ground next to the cell. The inhabitants of Seti Olan Two are merely primitive, not stupid. They will eventually realize that we are here. They will be looking for us.  
  
"Oh." McCoy paused a beat, apparently thinking this over. "Good point. But do you think you're ready? (A/N: I'm a big kid now!)"  
  
The point turned out to be moot, (A/N: Entmoot!) for at that moment, seven walrus-people burst in through the doorway.  
  
McCoy couldn't help but mutter, "Right as always, Spock." But no one heard him.  
  
-  
  
Roberts and Chekov had been blown backwards from the doorway by some invisible blow. The walrus-aliens' minds certainly packed a powerful punch. But as they were already on their feet again, I was apparent that they would be okay.  
  
Spock regarded the walrus-things with interest, for the original walrus- person was mentally yelling,   
  
Apparently the walrus-thing did not care who she was thinking to, (A/N: Think Animorphs. Thought-speak.) for the Enterprise four could hear (?) everything.  
  
Roberts and McCoy gaped. Spock in his Chekov-shell looked Spockful, and Chekov looked worried.  
  
"You know what happened to us? You can change us back?" McCoy and Roberts asked nearly in unison.  
  
What the humans (and Vulcan Chekov) felt in their minds was unmistakably laughter.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Dun dun dun..... a nice little cliff-hanger for those who care. And I must apologize, there were A LOT of authors notes in this chapter. I don't know where the Huggies came from. Anyway, REVIEW!!! 


	10. We've got to get back down to thatplanet

Disclaimer: What can I use that's creative? Running out of ideas.... I know! I do something uncreative, but because I have not done this before, it will be creative!  
  
Oh yeah. I forgot the actual disclaimer.  
  
Paramount owns Star Trek.  
  
So there.  
  
-  
  
Reviewer Replies:  
  
Broken Infinity: There you are. I see you review. I'm very glad you still like the story. Walruses ARE cute.  
  
Bookey Hooper: Hee hee... How could I forget the meese? ^_^  
  
-  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Ten - "We've got to get back down to that planet."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
ABOARD THE ENTERPRISE  
  
"Scotty!" Kirk barked into the comm unit on his chair, "Have you got that transporter working yet?"  
  
"Ah've almust got it," came the reply, "It's just that aftair we beamed ye up the conjuctaflabulator in conjunction with cormotubinatorium ring caused a-"  
  
"Scotty! I don't care! Just get them back up here!"  
  
ON THE PLANET  
  
"You plan on killing us," Spock remarked with interest. "Before you do so, please explain your reasoning."  
  
McCoy looked sideways at his logical compainion as if he had gone insane. Which, in all probability, he had.  
  
But, for some reaon, the walrus-thing decided to explain.  
  
I  
  
When the humans (and the Vulcan Chekov) looked at her with curiosity for more, she decided what the heck and continued.  
  
In the silence that ensued McCoy felt the glances of his fellow humanoids. They all looked at his new haircut, just thinking of what it had almost lead up to.  
  
"So you did it," McCoy finally exclaimed. Part of it was anger, part of it was to just break the silence. "You're the reason I'm stuck in this body!"  
  
"You can't switch us back?"  
  
McCoy was about to respond with some biting comment when Spock spoke up.  
  
"Why?" he asked, "We do not seem to be impairing you in any way. Therefore it is illogical to eliminate us."  
  
The walrus-thing practically radiated confusion.   
  
"Could you maybe make an exception for us?" Roberts asked timidly.  
  
"Actually, if you feel a need to rid yourself of this... sneeze... perhaps we can work together to replace our minds to their natural positions."  
  
the walrus-alien said, then-  
  
-the remnants of the landing party turned into sparkling pillars of light and disappeared.  
  
ABOARD THE ENTERPRISE  
  
Kirk wanted to be in the transporter room when Bones, Spock, Chekov and that ensign finally got back to the ship. So he was there to see Spock look surprised, McCoy look confused, Chekov look... logical, even as he hung onto Roberts' arm for support, and Ensign Roberts look grumpy.  
  
"That walrus thing was just about to say yes, I know it was!" McCoy exploded.  
  
"Uh, ensign?" Kirk asked the one who was supposed to be a red-shirt.  
  
"Yes, sir?" Roberts said automatically from McCoy's mouth.  
  
"Bones?" Kirk asked frantically. He was officially very, very confused. Just what had happened down on that planet?  
  
Actually, unbeknownst to Kirk (A/N: Who doesn't know much anyway) they had simply gotten so used to being around only each other that our four main characters had forgotten to pretend they hadn't switched. But of course Kirk had not idea.  
  
"Uh, well, I guess you should all get down to sickbay," Kirk said uncertainly. They were acting strange again...  
  
"I vould rether haff a shower first, Keptin."  
  
"Okay... Spock."  
  
"Yeeaaahh, me too," Roberts said.  
  
"Okay... Bones." Kirk didn't seem completely sure he was talking to either Spock or McCoy.  
  
"But you two," he continued, addressing the real McCoy and Spock, "You are going down to Sickbay right now."  
  
McCoy could practically feel Kirk eyeing up his and Spock's injuries.  
  
"And then I want to know what the hell happened down there," Kirk finished.  
  
There was a chorus (well, four voices) of yeahs, yes's, and okay's, then Spock and McCoy went down to Sickbay. Roberts and Chekov went to their own cabins, not even bothering to think it would appear strange. Luckily, the only problems that ensued were two very confused roommates.  
  
Down at Sickbay (A/N: Down? Where is Sickbay, anyway?) a few nurses had some strange patients. Or rather, patients with strange injuries.  
  
"Someone cut off the tip of your finger?" Nurse Chapel asked in disbelief.  
  
McCoy nodded, not wanting to give away his character by saying something McCoy-like. Jim already thought he was crazy. Did Christine have to as well?  
  
"That's insane. What happened?" the Nurse asked.  
  
McCoy had to talk now, but he would keep it short and sweet. "Some unfriendly aliens decided that's what they should do. They gave me a haircut, too."  
  
"Oh. I was wondering about that."  
  
She finished unwrapping the bandages that wound around McCoy's damaged finger. Waving a mediscanner around it, she frowned, checked the results again, and frowned even more.  
  
"Uh, I'm sorry to tell you, Ensign-?"  
  
"Roberts," McCoy said.  
  
"Well, Ensign Roberts, it looks like the tip of your finger is lost for good. I will have to talk to Doctor McCoy, but don't count on it."  
  
"Oh", McCoy said stupidly. It didn't really matter to him, now that the painkiller hypo had stopped the abominable throbbing. The only problem now would be when Nurse Chapel talked to 'Doctor McCoy.' In other words, Roberts.  
  
At best he would say something stupid and un-McCoy-like. At worst, he would freak out about the loss of a finger tip.  
  
Except that now, it wasn't his finger. For short of a miracle, they would never be themselves again. In what could only be a short amount of time, the Enterprise would zoom away from a dangerous planet full of strange, psychic, walrus-people.  
  
In other words, the only people who could help them switch back.  
  
(A/N: Now this COULD be the end of the chapter. But no. There's more stuff that I need to stick in here. Here goes...)  
  
McCoy waited until there was no one in the room to talk to Spock.Even that wait was agonizing. Not in the physical sense; the painkiller that Nurse Chapel had given him was working fine. No, it was the agony of feeling valuble time slip away while he should be doing something.  
  
"Spock," McCoy said when he finally got a chance, "We've got to get back down to that planet."  
  
"I am aware of that," Spock said in his most, logical, calm, and frustrating manner.  
  
"Well...?"  
  
"Well, what?" Spock was still infuriatingly calm.  
  
"Well, Jim is going to take this ship out of orbit in any minute. And even if he wasn't, we wouldn't be able to beam down anyway!"  
  
"We would be able," Spock pointed out, "We simply wouldn't be allowed."  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. "You knew what I meant. And anyway, we're going to be gone from here before you can blink."  
  
Spock blinked. "Without a navigator?"  
  
McCoy was ready. "Sulu can plot a course just as easily. (A/N: Unless of course you read Happi Froggi's Hot Dog where Sulu is under stress and goes midwestern.)  
  
But Spock was, as usuall, ready too. "The captain is not in a hurry. Therefore it is only logical that he wait for Mr. Chekov, who is a more skilled navigator that Mr. Sulu."  
  
"Okay, okay. But we're still not ALLOWED to beam down."  
  
"Exactly. But we are able."  
  
"Oooooooooohhhh, I get it," McCoy finally said with recognition, "Now what?"  
  
"Perhaps you should call Ensigns Chekov and Roberts. If we are all to beam down together, it is logical that they know."  
  
"Duh," McCoy muttered under his breath as he headed towards the intercom on the wall. "Uh, Ch- er, Mr. Spock? Doctor McCoy?"  
  
After his shower, Ensign Roberts was not sure of where to go. The captain had said to meet with him, but where? When? As the comm unit on the wall beeped, he hoped his questions would be answered.  
  
He jumped when he heard his own voice on the other end.  
  
After realizing that it was Doctor McCoy that he was hearing and he had missed the first few words, Roberts made an effort to listen to the rest of the speech.  
  
"-down to the planet. So come to Sickbay, okay?"  
  
A/N: So that was a really bad way to end the chapter, but it was beginning to get annoyingly long, to me anyway. I don't know about you, the anonymous reader (well, lately it's been Broken Infinity and Bookey Hooper)  
  
Yeah. ANYway, REVIEW!!!  
  
I love reviews, they make me bouncy. So REVIEW!!!! ----R-E-V-I-E-W-!---- 


	11. Not AGAIN

Disclaimer: *Is transformed into a cow* Moooooooooo. *Chews on grass* Moooooooooo. I don't own Star Trek either. Moooooooooo.  
  
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Reviewer Replies  
  
Broken Infinity: Yay. You reviewed. Again. Actually, that makes me very happy. I LOVE reviews! And reviewing does make me write faster. ^_^  
  
Unrealistic: Yeah, Roberts IS lucky. Maybe I'll kill him off when he gets switched back... But probably not. I've become attached to him, I guess. And the walrus people are BACK [Insert the 'Without Me' Back da na na na na na music]. Happy Typing to you too.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Eleven - "Not AGAIN..."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"WHAT?" Roberts half-yelled half-whispered. Yes, this IS possible.  
  
McCoy sighed. "I told you over the intercom. Weren't you listening?"  
  
"I... didn't realize you meant we would have to sneak around to the transporter and then get the guy away from it and then beam ourselves down and hope no one notices and then hope that the Enterprise comes BACK for us and-"  
  
"Ensign!" Spock said sharply, "We are well aware of the risks of this maneuver. However, the only alternative would be to stay as we are for the rest of our lives." (There's that logical ice cube again.)  
  
Roberts quieted down considerably at that. Somehow, he hadn't been thinking of this as a rest-of-his-life deal. But now... the thought was scary. "So when do we go?" he asked cheerfully.  
  
Chekov and McCoy both rolled their eyes. "We were planning on leaving NOW."  
  
"Okay," Roberts said. "So how do we do it?"  
  
-  
  
A short time and a considerable amount of sneaking later they were in the transporter room. Due to the amazing technology of the twenty-third century, Spock was up and walking again with only a little bit of a limp. This was certainly helpful, as it would have been extremely difficult to get to the transporter room otherwise.  
  
The biggest problem they encountered was Lieutenant Kyle, the transporter operator. Luckily, this problem was easily solved with a conveniently placed metal bar.  
  
They were about to beam down when the intercom whistled. "Kirk to McCoy," it said.  
  
It would have been much simpler if Kirk had just called Sickbay. But he had called McCoy, and the computer had automatically found McCoy.  
  
McCoy gestured to Roberts. "Well, go ahead!" he hissed.  
  
"Uh, McCoy here."  
  
"So, Bones, will I have my navigator back anytime soon?"  
  
"Er, not yet."  
  
"Okay. Well, I'm having Sulu take us out then."  
  
"Okay." Roberts broke the connection. Spock, being Vulcan with his useful Vulcan mind, did not hesitate.  
  
"Get on the transporter!" he ordered. He hit the switch that would beam them all down as soon as he stepped onto the transporter pad. He bounded (do Vulcans bound? Well, I guess he's human now) onto the transporter. He wasn't a second too late.  
  
Just as the four materialized on the ground, the Enterprise warped away.  
  
(A/N: Should I leave it here? I should, except that this chapter is really short so far. SO, I'll keep going.)  
  
"We're stuck here," McCoy pointed out completely unnecessarily. It had been mostly his plan to do this, but...  
  
But what? He asked himself crossly. We're here. There's nothing I can do about that now.  
  
"We should find the natives," Spock said, and the others agreed. They began to follow Spock, as he seemed to have some idea where he was going in the snowy wilderness.  
  
Spock led them to the village of ugly dome-like huts where the walrus people had originally captured them. In an instant, walrus people with long spears surrounded them. Though it was hard to tell the aliens apart, none of them looked like the one that had been about to help them.  
  
They felt the voice in their minds again.   
  
It was a different voice than the one they had heard earlier. The difference was hard to explain. This voice seemed... scarier. Illogical but true.  
  
(A/N: Should I end it here? Nah.)  
  
"Can we have some last words or something?" McCoy asked. But he was just stalling.  
  
the walrus-thing seemed confused.  
  
"Yeah... it's a... tradition. We get to say what we want before we die."  
  
McCoy flipped open his communicator. "Beam us up, Scotty!" But he knew it was hopeless. Scotty was long gone.  
  
The walrus-thing was making a peculiar wheezing sound. After a few moments of this, the humanoids realized that it was laughing. And then it lapsed into more insane laughter.  
  
Chekov caught Roberts' eye and shrugged. Of course he was worried; but he wasn't dead yet, and that seemed like a good thing. Anyway, this was funny.  
  
The walrus-thing suddenly broke off his laughing and in a most serious thought voice he commanded,   
  
Not so funny anymore.  
  
"Wait!" McCoy yelled, causing the aliens to pause.  
  
the walrus-person screamed mentally, causing the others to raise their spears even higher.  
  
"Wait! You didn't give my friends their last words!" McCoy shouted.  
  
the walrus-thing said reasonably.  
  
"How meny vords do ve get?" Chekov asked.  
  
"Vhat?!"  
  
The walrus thing pointed its stubby finger at Roberts.  
  
"Uh, you can't kill us."  
  
"It's tradition." This alien seemed to hold tradition in very high respect. Maybe this would work.  
  
"Er..."  
  
"A life taken Is a bad omen Preserve all you can From Human to Vulcan to hen."  
  
McCoy stared at Spock in shock. Had the Vulcan lost his marbles? But the walrus-thing did not seem shocked in the least.   
  
Spock nodded solemnly.  
  
They Enterprise four were lead to a small cave. It seemed that the walrus things didn't want to chance leaving them in a cell again. The cave was then blocked with a large boulder that the aliens rolled across the exit. They were left in darkness. Then there was silence. No one had anything to say. They had failed.  
  
Finally Chekov broke the silence. "Not AGAIN..."  
  
"Yes, again, Ensign," Spock said. "Perhaps now we should attempt to escape."  
  
McCoy bit back a sarcastic remark. Fighting would only make the situation worse. "So what do we do?"  
  
"Perhaps we should attempt to move that rock," Spock suggested, logical as ever.  
  
The other three agreed, though none of them particularly thought it would work. So they were all surprised when the boulder rolled easily out of it's place blocking the exit.  
  
"Er..." McCoy said in shock. The walrus-things had overlooked a pretty importat detail.  
  
"Vell? Vhat are ve vaiting for?" Chekov asked. "Let's go find thet valrus creature."  
  
"After you," McCoy said with exaggerated politeness to Spock.  
  
One of the Eyebrows began to creep upwards. Spock, however, did not comment beyond that.  
  
"So are we looking for the blue ice or whatever?" Roberts asked.  
  
"That would be the logical course of action," the logical one said.  
  
They walked for a little longer in silence. The landscape looked all the same to McCoy; he couldn't imagine how Spock knew which direction to go. Then again, maybe he didn't. That thought was unsettling, and McCoy squashed it with all his mental might.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"Bones? Spock?" Kirk said into the intercom. Again. Where could they be? Why were they not responding? Could something have happened to them?  
  
"Computer," Kirk said, an idea (A/N: Yes! An idea. This should be a national holiday! National Kirk Actually Had an Idea Day!) popping into his head suddenly. "Locate Mister Spock and Doctor McCoy."  
  
"Scanning," the computer said in its monotone female voice.  
  
Kirk tapped his foot impatiently as the computer completed its scan of the ship.  
  
"Complete," the computer finally informed Kirk, "Personnel not on board."  
  
"What?! Well, are they?"  
  
"Unknown."  
  
"Er, where were they last?"  
  
"Transporter room." The computer had already done its initial scan. It did not need to do so over again.  
  
Kirk swore. (A/N: I won't write down EXACTLY what he said simply because this is a G-rated story. So there.) "Where did they go?" The bridge crew looked at him somewhat strangely. If Spock had been there he would have raised an Eyebrow.  
  
"Planet Seti Olan Two."  
  
Kirk cursed again. More strange looks. Kirk ignored them. "Sulu, take us back to..." Kirk paused. "That planet," he finished.  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
At this point there would be a cheesy view of the Enterprise turning around in space. But inside of the ship the crew felt nothing.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Surprisingly, they found the blue ice. Granted, they were all shivering and uncomfortable, but at least they were on the right track. If only they could be shivering and uncomfortable in their own bodies.  
  
Apparently the walrus-people did not get out much, for they saw no one as they followed the blue ice. And they had been following it for a while.  
  
Suddenly Spock stopped walking.  
  
"What did you do that for?" McCoy asked irritably. He had narrowly missed crashing into the Vulcan/Russian.  
  
"This is not where the blue ice led originally," Spock said.  
  
"So?" Chekov asked thickly. The cold was effecting him the most. They had spent a lot of time walking and his Vulcan body was not acclimated to the cold.  
  
"I do not know what this means. However, I find it rather... unsettling."  
  
"So, Spock," McCoy said in his best arguing voice, "You're unsettled. A once in a lifetime thing, I suppose. Anyway, are you sure you simply didn't THINK it went a different way when we were here before? Maybe you got it wrong. You're not perfect, no matter what you might say."  
  
"That is possible," Spock said slowly, thinking it over. Finally he began walking again. Apparently he had made up his mind. The others followed wordlessly.  
  
The blue ice twined its way around the igloo-like huts. The wind had started up again, harder than before. The sky above them seemed to be darkening, leaving the four in an eerie gloom.  
  
Then the hail started. It was nothing like the relatively tame Earth hail. These were sharp, marble-sized chunks of ice that were hurtling down from the skies with tremendous speeds.  
  
Chekov was the first to be hit, and he stared for a moment at the unfamiliar green blood that was blossoming out of the cut on his shoulder.  
  
"Run!" McCoy yelled, having just taken a hailstone in the center of his chest.  
  
"To the nearest shelter!" Spock added, pointing at an igloo hut that was about fifty yards away.  
  
In fact, the hailstorm had hit at the worst possible time. For most of the walk along the blue ice, they had been fairly close to some of the igloo huts. But now they were in an open stretch of land.  
  
The hailstones were getting larger now. Most of them were about the size of shooting marbles, and some were bigger. A few were plum-sized. Roberts was hit full in the face by one of these large ones, and he saw stars for a moment. Luckily, his vision cleared up enough to keep running. To stop would mean certain death.  
  
The wind was absolutely howling now, and the hail was being driven around the Enterprise four with such strength that a hit like Roberts had received earlier would prove very dangerous.  
  
It did.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
[Insert Twilight Zone music.] Dun dun dun....  
  
As always, review. ---\==/ 


	12. A Test

Disclaimer: My brain has died. Therefor I have no interesting way to do this. Star Trek is not mine. Why does Word think "mine" is bad grammar? So odd.  
  
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Reviewer Replies  
  
Broken Infinity: Oh yeah, I did have a cliffhanger. Whoopsies, I forgot. Kill me for not updating, then. No, actually, I refuse to continue. In fact, I didn't even write this chapter. It's all a figment of your imagination. The whole STORY does not exist. Okay, I got a little carried away there. Keep reading.  
  
PenguinQueen: This time took a while in updating too, a soggy. And LOTB... will do. Yay for excitement.  
  
Unrealistic: Hmm... I guess you could call that a plan... Kirk does, anyway. Actually, I think Kirk was a gold-shirt ensign back in the day. But you might be right, I'm not sure. Yay! Definitely try something new!  
  
Happi Froggi: Umm... How do I reply to ALL THAT!!!???? You too scary fuh me. But, er, thanks for reviewing.  
  
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A/N: There is an ending in sight! I actually know where this is going! So expect just a few more chapters.  
  
A/N2: Sorry for anyone who was waiting for this. It took a long time for me to update. My laptop battery keeps dying and my powercord is broken. -_- So I have to charge my computer up with someone else's powercord to type. But I finally managed to write a chapter. Read and review.  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Twelve - A Test  
  
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No matter how fast the Enterprise four ran, the igloo hut seemed to never come closer. This was, of course, an illusion, but it was a very convincing and painful illusion. McCoy feared the hail would be as big as him, soon, and it was already bigger than fist size.  
  
So, with all his red-shirt "luck", Roberts was hit again. In the face, again. But this time, it was a soon-to-be McCoy sized piece of hail, and he fell backwards, dazed.  
  
However, there was a little bit of luck acting for Roberts, because Chekov bent down almost without stopping and grabbed the ensign. He pulled Roberts along a few steps until the ensign was back on his feet.  
  
Maybe the igloo hut was coming a little closer... McCoy hoped so. He was nearly blinded by the smaller pieces of hail that were pelting down. These, however, could do little to no damage. They were just an annoyance.  
  
McCoy, pondering the igloo huts and small pieces of hail, didn't see the rock that jutted up from the ice and snow. He tripped on it, landing hard. He tried to get up, knowing speed was of the essence, but a particularly large hailstone thudded into his back. This knocked the breath out of him, and he fell back to the ground.  
  
Spock, Chekov, and Roberts were swallowed up by the hail as McCoy tried to get up.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Ten meters, nine, eight... They were almost there... almost... three, two, one....  
  
Spock was the first to stumble into the igloo hut, and Chekov and Roberts quickly followed him. Chekov was moaning to himself about the cold and how this was the one disadvantage to being Vulcan. Roberts, with actual security guard (ha, ha) sense, was up and looking around at his surroundings. The hut was empty. There were chutes that were seemingly randomly placed along the walls, but no walrus people. And no McCoy.  
  
"I'm going out to get him," Spock declared.  
  
"No," Roberts argued, ignoring the fact that after about three hits to the face with large pieces of hail he was swelling up like a balloon, "It's my job to protect senior officers."  
  
"Ensign, this is NOT the time..."  
  
"I'm serious. And you just broke you leg, didn't you? You really shouldn't go. I--"  
  
But Spock was ignoring him. He was already at the entrance/exit to the igloo hut. Roberts sighed and scooted after him.  
  
"Ensign..." Spock's tone was dangerous. But they were outside now, and there was no time for talk.  
  
"Doctor!" Spock yelled, ignoring Roberts for the mean time.  
  
"Look for the red shirt!" Roberts said almost as loudly, trying to be heard over the noise of the gale.  
  
Spock nodded, then suddenly he pointed. "Over there!"  
  
A glimmer of red could be seen through the howling wind and ice and snow and general gray and white. A hailstone hit Spock in the back of the shoulder blade and he stumbled. But he only stumbled. The hail seemed to be letting up now, or it would have knocked him nearly of his feet.  
  
And yes, there was McCoy. The red shirt was becoming easier and easier to see. Spock plowed forward, Roberts not far behind. They reached McCoy fairly easily now, and found him already sitting up.  
  
"Doctor, are you alright?" Spock asked.  
  
"Yeah..." McCoy said hesitantly, as though he wasn't completely sure of the answer. "When nobody noticed that I had fallen, I thought it might be best just to wait for the storm to calm down a little bit. And I guess it has."  
  
This was true. What had been a whirlwind of gray snow and ice and hail was now almost like normal Earth hail. Almost.  
  
Spock nodded. "Then we should get back to Mr. Chekov."  
  
"Is he okay? Why didn't he come? Is he hurt--?"  
  
"No," Spock answered simply. He didn't mention the fact that he had lost an argument to a red-shirt.  
  
McCoy stood up. The storm was just about gone, almost as quickly as it had come. "Wow, in my own body I'd be sore for a week, but I'm just a kid now... Ah, this is nice," he said to no one in particular.  
  
They started toward the igloo hut. Surprisingly, Chekov was where they had left him. No more bad luck had befallen him since the others had been out in the hail.  
  
Sad, though, McCoy thought, That I find it strange when nothing bad happens.  
  
"You know vhat," Chekov said, "Ve need a fire. I just vant to varm my hands ower a good fire."  
  
"So do we all," McCoy muttered.  
  
But Spock said, "We need to keep going. The last thing we need is to be found by the indigenous people, especially because of a... fire."  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Okay then, let's GO."  
  
The hail had completely stopped now, and the sun was making a tentative comeback.  
  
They started walking again, following the blue ice, and ignoring the injuries they had received from the hail. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt badly, though they probably would be sore for a week. Roberts looked like he would have a nice black eye before long.  
  
The going seemed a lot easier now, because of the absence of the hail. And with the pale sunlight that had found its way to the ground, it was almost comfortable. Almost. It was still numbingly cold, though.  
  
They continued following the blue ice. They had to reach that walrus- person, the one who might have let them go. The land started to dip downwards, which worried Spock even more. The land had not dipped down earlier.  
  
And then they saw the cliff. The blue ice was traveling in a fairly straight line, all the way up to a cliff. A large, rocky/icy cliff that had NOT been there before.  
  
"Looks like we're gonna have to climb again," McCoy said, "At least it's not a tunnel this time."  
  
"Doctor, that cliff was not there when we first traveled along this blue ice."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"You do not find it odd?"  
  
"Yeah, it's odd, but we can worry about it when we get there. We've got a while to go before we reach it."  
  
Spock fell silent, confused by McCoy's "logic."  
  
"Well, let's keep going," McCoy said, taking the lead. Spock, Roberts, and Chekov fell into line behind him.  
  
They reached the cliff easily, and soon stood looking up at it from below.  
  
"Maybe we could... go around it or something," Roberts said.  
  
McCoy and Chekov were nodding (neither of them wanted to climb the cliff) when Spock said, "No. We must follow the blue ice. The blue ice, for whatever reason, is leading up the cliff."  
  
"But Spock," McCoy argued, "You said it yourself that this ice isn't the same ice that we followed before. SO there's really no reason to keep following it."  
  
"There is. This ice is leading somewhere. Whether or not it is the destination we are aiming for, it will bring us to some place. Would you rather wander around in the wilderness?"  
  
"But we ARE wandering around in the wilderness! THIS is the wilderness!"  
  
Chekov and Roberts backed away slowly. So this was one of those legendary arguments between Spock and McCoy. And stranger yet, they watched it played out in their bodies.  
  
Chekov watched himself give a little sigh. "What do you propose we do, Doctor?"  
  
"I don't know, you're in charge!" McCoy snapped.  
  
"You seem to be questioning my decisions. I thought that maybe you had a better idea?"  
  
It was a question and McCoy knew it. But he DIDN'T have a better idea. Worst of all, he was beginning to think that Spock was right. He sighed gustily, just to make sure Spock heard. "Okay, okay, I'll go with your 'plan.' But don't expect me to like it. I'm still missing part of my finger, you know."  
  
Spock didn't answer, he just turned from McCoy to the cliff. It was about seventy feet tall, possible but not a welcome climb. There were a lot of handholds, so the going wouldn't be too hard. Uncomfortable at best, but not so hard that they would fail.  
  
"Maybe ve should... tie ourselves together or somethink so ve don't fall," Chekov suggested.  
  
"You mean so if one of us falls the rest of us fall," McCoy said.  
  
They soon forgot about that suggestion. With nothing more to say, they began to climb. Chekov decided he liked rock-climbing, at least as a Vulcan. Spock's tall Vulcan body was well suited for climbing, despite the cold. For the other three, however, it was not as simple. McCoy's body was somewhat out of shape, which made clinging to the rock surface dangerous for Roberts. McCoy was still missing part of his finger, which meant it was harder to hold on and it hurt when he used his injured hand. And last but not least, Spock's leg was paining him. It wouldn't be completely healed for another few days, but at this point the logical thing to do would be to press forward.  
  
So they did.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
McCoy thought he was going to die. This thought only lasted a moment, but while it did happen it was absolutely terrifying. He had come to a point where the handhold that made the most sense required the extensive use of his injured hand. So, with the Enterprise painkiller wearing off, he had had to stick his fingers in a little crack. He had almost let go, it hurt so badly. He had managed to grab a different crag of rock with his other hand, but that feeling of letting go lingered. He just hung on for a moment, aware of Spock moving tentatively upwards above him and Roberts below him. Then he started upwards again.  
  
At least he had survived.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Surprisingly, they all survived. True, there were times when Spock or McCoy or Roberts and sometimes even Chekov thought they were going to fall. But by sheer willpower they managed to climb all the way up.  
  
They sat, panting for breath, at the top. Chekov, not even feeling tired, had had to pull the others up to the top where he stood, grinning from ear to ear. Neither Spock nor McCoy bothered to tell him it looked funny on a Vulcan.  
  
"My god. I didn't. Think I. Would make. It," McCoy said breathlessly to no one in particular.  
  
"I did not think you would make it either," Spock commented, having regained his breath somewhat.  
  
"You know, you can shut up." McCoy's breath was back.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
After just a few more minutes, they were moving again. While the cliff had been in a relatively igloo-hut-free area, they were coming up on a cluster of igloo huts. The blue ice went into one. They followed it cautiously, not seeing any walrus-aliens. This however, meant nothing, as the walrus- creatures could easily watch them without standing right in front of them and using their eyes. Being psychic had its advantages.  
  
They made their way into the hut that the blue ice disappeared into. And lo and behold, there was the walrus-person they were looking for.  
  
It seemed too easy. Which, in a sense was ridiculous. Plum-sized hail and sheer cliff walls were not easy.  
  
the walrus-thing said. I see you have passed the first part of the test.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Hahahahaha! Review, and you'll find out what this all means! 


	13. Part Two

Disclaimer: [Sing to the tune of the chorus of Simple Plan's "Perfect". (If you hadn't guessed, it's stuck in my head.)] Star Trek is no-ot mine. I will never own it. Cuz I'm not, Para-moouuunt.  
  
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Reviewer Replies  
  
Broken Infinity: *Blinks. Opens mouth to say something. Closes it. Blinks again* Um... "Good, great, pink, fish shaped gods of my uncles step- cousin"?? What is this world coming to? Ah, don't answer. ^_^ Glad you love it deeply with the passion of chocolate sauce.  
  
mzsnaz: Yay! Thanks for the review! As for what the walrus-people are up to, you'll just have to read and see!  
  
Ariennye: Not a mafia elf anymore... Wow, was that when I updated last? Oops. But joy and happiness for the reading and the reviewing.  
  
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A/N: I have finally gotten off my lazy butt to write a chapter! Yahoo!  
  
A/N2: This story is more than 40 pages long (single-spaced)... and it's not done yet. So thanks for all of you who hung in there and read it!  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Thirteen - Part Two  
  
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They stared at the walrus thing blankly until McCoy said weakly, "A test?" Then somewhat less weakly, "A TEST?"  
  
This last part was directed at Spock, who simply nodded.  
  
"So that rock that we moved easily, and the hail, and-"  
  
the walrus-alien said,   
  
Spock gave McCoy an I-told-you-so look.  
  
"But why are you testing us this way?" Spock probed, not waiting to see McCoy's reaction.  
  
"And what is this?" McCoy asked.  
  
the walrus-creature informed them.  
  
"When will we take this 'Part two'?" McCoy asked.  
  
Suddenly, Chekov was completely sure he didn't want to do this. He just wanted to keep this Vulcan body, he wanted to go somewhere that they couldn't find him, couldn't make him switch back.  
  
Even McCoy was having such feelings. He would miss being twenty years old. It wouldn't be THAT bad to stay as Roberts. Of course, there would be his job as the CMO of the Enterprise...  
  
This thought jerked him back into reality. What was he thinking? He NEEDED his body back. Somehow the thought of living as a security guard with Roberts in control of Sickbay did not work.  
  
He swallowed. "Um, part two...?"  
  
H could swear that if the walrus-thing had had eyebrows, it would have raised one.   
  
The walrus-thing led Roberts and McCoy into a short shoot, leaving Spock and Chekov alone in the room.  
  
Spock did not feel that he wanted to keep this human body. He detested (though he would never admit to having an emotion such as this) this weak Chekov-shell.  
  
He leaned against a wall to take some of the wait off of his leg.  
  
Chekov couldn't stop this odd instinct to run for it, to escape with this body while he had it. He didn't understand the thought completely; something in him said he shouldn't be thinking it. However, most of his mind was centered on this thought, and he embraced it. He had to get away.  
  
Spock stood up straight as Chekov approached. Then one thing happened that he would have never expected.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Chekov muttered, and kicked him with the force of a Vulcan in his shin. Normally this would not have phased him, but normally he was a healthy Vulcan, and not an injured human. The unexpected blow doubled him over in pain, and he caught a glimpse of Chekov running outside.  
  
(A/N: Don't hate me, that will be explained in just a second...)  
  
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McCoy couldn't believe he was back in his own body. He stared, he marveled, and then thanked the walrus-thing. In fact, he thanked the walrus-person multiple times, as did Roberts. It had been an interesting experience. At first he had felt like he was floating, and then he was back. It was much like the first experience of going into Roberts' body. He was even left with a small headache.  
  
But after a little while, he began to wonder. What had been part two of the test? He asked the walrus-person.  
  
she said. I went into your mind and amplified whatever desire there was in you to keep the other's body. When it became apparent that you honestly did want you body back, I brought you here. And I do take it you were considering not switching back...?  
  
"Well, seeing as you can read minds and you already switched me back, I'd think you might know." The simple, well, greatness of getting is body back was making McCoy's southern accent more pronounced. "But what about Chekov and Spock?"  
  
"And knowing Chekov, he probably has," McCoy laughed. But the laughter died off suddenly. "Just how much did you amplify this feeling? Because he's said he liked the Vulcan body. I never knew just how serious he was, though."  
  
the walrus-person said,  
  
But McCoy and Roberts were already gone. They made their way back to the room where they had left the others. They heard Spock's shouts before they reached the room.  
  
"Doctor! Doctor, Chekov has run-"  
  
"I know, Spock, but-- What the hell happened to you?"  
  
"Mr. Chekov kicked me, doctor. I believe I require some assistance. And I see you are yourself again."  
  
"Yeah... I am, it's great, isn't it," McCoy muttered as he sank to his knees near Spock. "Not as you as I used to be, but oh well..." he broke off and continued in a more serious tone, "So Chekov kicked you? In the leg, I take it."  
  
Spock nodded solemnly.  
  
"Hmm, painful, I bet. When did this happen?" He was expecting an answer with a few decimal points, so when Spock said "About five minutes ago," he began to worry.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
"Obviously not, doctor, as I was kicked by a... Vulcan on my already injured leg."  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes as he began patching up the Vulcan Russian. It did occur to him to explain exactly why Chekov had run away for, as Spock would say, it was extremely illogical behavior, even for a human. Every once in a while, the walrus-alien interjected a thought, and by the time he was finished applying a splint to Spock's leg, Spock knew all.  
  
"Well, I'd say you've had a pretty unlucky trip, Spock," McCoy said, standing up. "It's just been one thing after another. Did you know that Chekov's Vulcan kicks are so strong he re-broke your leg?"  
  
"No, doctor," Spock said patiently, in a voice that stated 'I don't want to listen to you, but I must.'  
  
"Um," Roberts said tentatively. He had been fairly silent for the last few minutes, and both McCoy and Spock looked up in surprise to hear him talk. "Don't you think we should try to find Chekov?"  
  
"Logical," Spock said from his position on the floor.  
  
"Er, you guys are the commanding officers," the red-shirt reminded them. "What should I do?"  
  
"Spock, I really don't think you should travel, so I guess I should go with Roberts to get Chekov... or maybe not... oh, I don't know!"  
  
Spock addressed the walrus-thing. "Would you be willing to switch us back even though Chekov failed the test?"  
  
Spock was sounding less like himself than usual, and McCoy guessed it was a combination of stress and pain. They had to get this worked out sometime. Soon.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What are you going to do, carry him?" McCoy asked. "Why don't we find Chekov and bring him back here?"  
  
"Doctor, we would be losing valuable time. We do not have much time before Jim notices we're gone and comes to get us. And while I'm sure you would not mind, I would like to get back to my own body."  
  
"Wait..." Roberts said, "Can't you, um, un-amplify the feeling thing? I mean, that would make him want to come back here."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Well, unless someone is going to carry Spock, I think my idea is best."  
  
Roberts and Spock nodded.  
  
I the walrus-thing said. I have examined your mind, McCoy, and there is something called a horse that you ride. I am not a horse, but Spock could ride me.  
  
Spock raised his eyebrow. "Possible. Quite possible. How fast can you travel?"  
  
"Then why don't you two go and find Chekov. Spock, you brought your tricorder, right?"  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Kirk paced nervously around his chair. He needed answers. Unfortunately, he would have to wait until he found his four crewmembers. And before he could do that, he would have to reach Seti Olan Two. "ETA, Mr. Ch- Mr. Sulu?"  
  
"About twenty minutes, sir."  
  
He sat down in his chair, tapping his foot in impatience. "Increase speed to warp seven."  
  
"Uh, yes, sir."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"Bear to the left," Spock said. His tricorder, luckily, was working in this area, and it was easy to track Chekov.  
  
Riding the walrus-person was, in fact, quite interesting. It was slow-going to get to the top of hills, but the walrus-alien could slide down slopes like a penguin. She turned right now to the left, and suddenly Spock could make out a small outline of a figure in the distance.  
  
"There," he said, fighting his rising excitement.  
  
Spock pointed out the dark smudge that was Chekov.  
  
This was one thing Spock had illogically not taken into account. Of course the walrus-person would not have the same eyesight he did!  
  
"Yes, it will be a while yet."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"Mr. Sulu! ETA as of now!"  
  
"Four minutes, captain."  
  
-  
  
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You like? Review! Please. Me thank you. Much. 


	14. WalrusPerson in the Freezer

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own Star Trek. It's all mine. Paramount decided to give it to me for Christmas.  
  
*Rolls eyes* Of course not.  
  
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Reviewer Replies -  
  
-MySchemingMind: Heh... thanks. I guess I kind of forgot to give the walrus- people a name... maybe I'll change that sometime. This story is actually almost done.  
  
-Unrealistic: Yeah, this half might be a bit difficult. At least Roberts and McCoy are back. :) Happy reading.  
  
-Ariennye: Agh, stupid typos. Maybe I should change that one. Too bad I'm lazy. Enjoy this chapter.  
  
-Broken Infinity: Thank you. I'm not sure if I like caesar (sp?) salad, but if that's a compliment I'll take your word for it. :) I think my cliffhangers have become more evil, because I haven't been updating. A soggy! [I'm sorry!]  
  
-mzsnaz: I know, I was thinking the same thing as I wrote the last chapter. :)  
  
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A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait... My Star Trek Muse died for a while, but it's back. And this story is too. Enjoy!  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Fourteen - Walrus-Person in the Freezer  
  
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"How far, exactly, can you see?" Spock asked the walrus-creature.  
  
the walrus-thing said.  
  
Spock let out a small groan. Small enough that the only human who might have picked up on it would have been Doctor McCoy when he was trying to catch Spock doing something human.  
  
In any case, with the walrus-person's bad eyesight, this would be much more difficult than it had originally seemed. Perhaps it would have been better if McCoy and Roberts had gone and brought Chekov back themselves.  
  
"Can you hide us from the Enterprise?" Spock asked. At all costs he couldn't be beamed up to the Enterprise and lose his chance to be himself again.  
  
the walrus-person said, sliding down a hill. I They were fairly close to Chekov now, close enough that Spock could pick up some of his own features.  
  
But it would be some time before the walrus-thing could see Chekov.  
  
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"We have arrived at Seti Olan Two," Sulu reported.  
  
"Good," Kirk said. "Ensign Yeager," he nodded at the woman who had taken over the science station in both Spock and Chekov's absence, "Get a lock on Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Ensign Chekov, and Ensign Roberts. Tell whoever is in the transporter room to beam them up at those coordinates."  
  
"Yes sir," the ensign said.  
  
"Sulu, you've got the bridge," Kirk said. He headed down to the transporter room.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Mr. Kyle pulled lever that would beam up the landing party. Soon five beams of light sparkled into existence.  
  
Five!  
  
Kirk watched as Spock, McCoy, Chekov, Roberts, and what appeared to be some sort of walrus-like creature appeared on the transporter pads.  
  
Kirk watched as Chekov yelled "Now!" and Spock bounded off the transporter pad.  
  
Of course, in actuality, Spock was yelling "Now!" and Chekov was running. Yet even as this happened the walrus-thing was drooping, apparently unconscious. McCoy had run over to Spock and the walrus-thing. Roberts, for a moment, had seemed unsure of what to do, then had followed McCoy.  
  
To Kirk, it was a scene of utmost confusion. If things had seemed strange the first time they had been beamed up, than he didn't know what to call this. And what was that big creature next to Chekov? For that matter, what had happened to Chekov (Spock) this time?  
  
"Jim!" McCoy yelled, at least sounding like McCoy, "Get this person somewhere cold! I don't care where!"  
  
"What? Bones, what is going on?"  
  
"Just do it, dammit. Do you want her to die? She can't stand the temperature on this ship."  
  
Kirk didn't want anyone to die. "Will the freezer suffice?"  
  
"It should," McCoy told him.  
  
"Mr. Kyle!" Kirk commanded, "Beam that... thing to the freezer. Chekov, Bones, get off the transporter pad!"  
  
Kirk watched McCoy pull Chekov away. It seemed as if he hadn't responded to his own name. Which brought back memories of the last beam up, and THAT confusion.  
  
The walrus-thing disappeared.  
  
"Now, Bones, Spock, could you tell me what's going on?" Kirk asked. "Wait... Spock? Where did Spock go?"  
  
"I believe you should find him before we explain," Chekov said. "It is undoubtedly a long story and I would really rather prefer we did not go over it here."  
  
Where was Chekov's accent? Kirk wondered, but wherever it had gone, Chekov was right. They had to find Spock.  
  
Now that he thought about it, Chekov sounded suspiciously like Spock... What the hell was going on?  
  
"Jim," McCoy said, "I understand everything is a little bit confusing, but we all need a trip to sickbay..."  
  
"What? Oh, yes," he said. "You," he motioned to a small group of red- shirts, "A few of you help these men to Sickbay, the rest of you come with me. We've got to find Spock."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Finding "Spock" wouldn't as easy as it might have seemed. The Enterprise was fairly big, and Chekov was very determined not to be found. And, because of the walrus-person's problem interacting with the relative heat of the Enterprise, it looked as if Chekov would stay determined.  
  
He armed himself with two phasers, knowing that soon there would be a group of people trying to find him. Luckily, he had Spock's Vulcan strength, but it looked as if that might not be enough. He couldn't be found or he'd have to give this body up...  
  
He was hiding in a Jeffries Tube right now, but he knew it would not last. He would have to get off the Enterprise somehow. Maybe he could steal a shuttlecraft...? There would be no use staying Vulcan if he had so stay in hiding as well.  
  
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"I think we should tell Jim-Captain Kirk to you, Roberts-what's going on," McCoy said. "Chekov is dangerous right now, especially in your body, Spock. He won't take kindly to being 'found.'"  
  
"But he'll think we're crazy!" Roberts exclaimed.  
  
"I must agree with the doctor," Spock said. "At this point, he is probably beginning to doubt our sanity. In any case, he is wondering what is going on. Certainly is I was Captain I would be. Any explanation now hold more credibility than it would have before, because he is looking for an answer. Especially with the help of the walrus-like entity from Seti Olan Two."  
  
"Nurse coming," Roberts said. Both he and McCoy went to their own sickbay beds. They had come around Spock's to talk, as he could not move, but they did not want anyone to hear their conversations until they decided it should be so.  
  
"You look like you got hit in the head with a couple of rocks!" Nurse Chapel told McCoy.  
  
"Hailstones," he said. "They get pretty big on that planet."  
  
"I'll bet," Nurse Chapel agreed.  
  
"Well," she said a few minutes later, "You're free to go."  
  
McCoy was glad of this; he had to check up on the walrus-thing in the freezer. He hoped it hadn't been a mistake to send her there. But she couldn't go back to the planet, not yet.  
  
Luckily, the freezer was big, and about the same temperature as the planet below. Also, it was not currently holding anything (it was often used to transport medicines and things like that that needed the cold), and there was plenty of room for the walrus-thing.  
  
McCoy opened the door, and shivered; he had somehow managed to forget to bring a coat. At least there was no wind.  
  
There was the walrus-thing. She didn't seem to have moved. McCoy knelt over her, wishing he'd brought his medical tricorder. Actually, he wished he'd at least brought SOMETHING. He had walked over to the freezer from sickbay, not wanting to leave the walrus-thing alone too long.  
  
Now that he was here he didn't know what to do. He realized stupidly that he would have to go back and get his medical supplies. And a coat...  
  
A few minutes later he was back again. Looking at the readings on his tricorder, he realized that he had no idea what to do. What were normal readings?  
  
This brought him to the conclusion that his tricorder was, in fact, unnecessary.  
  
He walked up to the walrus thing and touched her blubbery hide with one hand. (He marveled to see all of his fingers back; he'd hated that aspect of Roberts' body)  
  
something yelled at him. He felt almost blown back by the feel of it. This was not going to work very well.  
  
"I just want to help," he said tentatively.  
  
The thought that was blasted at him seemed to be the equivalent of a human yell. Was the creature mad at him? Or was this natural?  
  
He needed a telepath. Hopefully Spock would be released from sickbay soon enough. McCoy left the freezer again.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Kirk rounded a corner and saw a flash of field-jacket brown and blue. Spock! Spock rounded the corner quickly, and Kirk ran to catch up. He almost banged into him; it seemed that Spock was not moving very fast. Kirk turned him around-  
  
--and faced McCoy.  
  
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he exploded, seeing the CMO's field jacket and medical supplies. Could McCoy be beaming Down AGAIN?  
  
"I was going back to sickbay, if you don't mind," McCoy said in his best annoyed tone.  
  
"Then why the field jacket and supplies?"  
  
"I just came from the freezer where there's an angry walrus-person from that planet, Seti-whatever."  
  
Kirk glared.  
  
"You know what, Jim, I think we all have some explaining to do. Spock and Ensign Roberts will have to help me do it. Come along to sickbay, why don't ya."  
  
Kirk nodded. "Yes, you certain DO have some explaining-SPOCK and Ensign Roberts?"  
  
"I told you we have some explaining to do. Why don't you tell your red- shirts to stop looking for Chekov-er, Spock."  
  
Kirk agreed. He wanted an explanation.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
Roberts was about to leave sickbay when Kirk and McCoy entered, but Kirk sat him down again.  
  
"Doctor McCoy says you all have some explaining to do. I suggest you start now."  
  
They began with the dreams, then the memories, then the switching of bodies (Roberts laughed as he remembered how much Nurse Chapel had liked Pirates of Orion: The Game). They continued on to tell about what had happened on Seti Olan Two and the walrus-people. Then their second trip to the planet, finally bringing the story up to the present.  
  
Kirk sat back and considered this for a moment. This was a lot to take in... McCoy and Chekov-no, that was Spock-watched him intently.  
  
"So do you believe us?" McCoy asked.  
  
"I... guess so," Kirk said. After all, why fake something like this. "But wait... you said that at first you couldn't talk about who you really are."  
  
"Well, that's right!" McCoy said. "The walrus-people must have fixed that. Damn nice of them if you think about it."  
  
"Captain, if you still doubt us, I'm sure there is a way that you could verify my identity."  
  
Kirk thought for a moment. "Well... if you're really Spock, you'll know the answer to this: When we were going to Babel with your mother and father, what did Bones ask your mother about your past?"  
  
"I believe he asked if I 'played' like 'normal' human children did. I may not have the wording exactly, but I believe that is the 'basic gist' of it."  
  
"I believe you," Kirk said.  
  
"Uh, Jim?" McCoy broke in. "I need to borrow Spock for a moment."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The walrus-person in the freezer seems to be, um, resisting me. I need the help of a telepath, and Spock is the only one I can think of right now."  
  
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When Kirk, Spock and McCoy made it to the freezer (Kirk had, for some reason, insisted on coming) the walrus-thing still hadn't moved. Spock had been given somewhat old-fashioned crutches; they hadn't healed his leg yet, but the nurse had understood that he needed to go.  
  
He hopped over to the walrus-thing and placed his fingers on her temples. He pulled them back immediately.  
  
"Her mind is set on full force to keep everyone away, and the experience is somewhat like what I discovered before we beamed down to Seti Olan Two," Spock reported. "There is a very powerful presence here, and I cannot penetrate at all without serious damage to my mind."  
  
"Well, since we should probably avoid that, I guess we'll have to wait until she wakes up herself," McCoy said. "Ah yes. Jim, you do agree, right?"  
  
"Yes, Bones, I agree."  
  
They had just begun the trip back to sickbay when an anonymous ensign ran up to them. "There you are, sir!" he said. "I'm supposed to tell you that someone just left in a shuttlecraft."  
  
"Chekov," Spock muttered.  
  
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Please review. 


	15. Chekov Comes Back

Disclaimer: Not...! Mine...!  
  
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Reviewer Replies – By the way, everyone, thank you for reviewing! I'm sorry if you don't remember what you wrote... I haven't updated forever.  
  
-cryogenie: Wow... thank you. I'm flattered. About Chekov being "a brat"—maybe he was a big enough brat in the beginning to change things a little bit, but I'm going to stick with the amplification thing at the end. If that made sense. My rational thought is leaving as the night wears on. But, in any case, keep reading!  
  
-mzsnaz: Here's more... and Jim, his brain, it won't be gone. :)  
  
-Unrealistic: I think Kirk is going to be confused enough with what's happening without Roberts and McCoy still switched... :)  
  
-MySchemingMind: I think when this is over *I* will be questioning my sanity... The Beatles and the walrus... hahaha...  
  
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*** Identity Crisis ***  
  
Chapter Fifteen –  
  
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"What now?" McCoy exclaimed. It was hardly a question, as he knew that when Kirk or Spock had a plan he would hear of it.  
  
"Obviously, we must catch up with Chekov, bring him back to the Enterprise, wake up the person from Seti Olan Two, and switch back Chekov and I," Spock stated.  
  
"Obviously," McCoy drawled. "But how—"  
  
"Gentlemen," Kirk cut in. "Up to the bridge. We can probably deal with this problem best there."  
  
They left the freezer and made their way to the turbolift. They got more than a few strange glances from the personnel of the Enterprise—after all, Spock was still on crutches and McCoy looked like (from the hail) he had just been beat up by the neighborhood bully.  
  
However, they made it to the bridge without any problems. Kirk seated himself in The Chair and said, "Ch—Sulu, take us out. We've got to follow that shuttlecraft."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
Kirk tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair. It should only be a few minutes before they caught up with Spock—no, his mind berated him, Chekov—but he disliked even that kind of wait.  
  
A moving blip became apparent on the viewscreen. "Mr. Sulu, it that the Galileo?"  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
"Lock onto it with a tractor beam, and beam, um, Mr. Spock back to the Enterprise."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Nothing to do now but wait. If it was possible to use simple willpower to make tractor beams work faster and generally better, Kirk was sure that would be happening. This whole thing was insane, but—  
  
"Captain," Spock said, jerking Kirk from his thoughts.  
  
"Hm, yes, er, what?"  
  
"May I point out that once Mr. Chekov is on the ship he will not be particularly inclined to cooperate with us. The native of Seti Olan Two is the only one who can... calm him down. Until then he will continue attempting to escape."  
  
Kirk nodded slowly. Of course. He would need—  
  
"Captain, the shuttlecraft is in our tractor beam." Sulu interrupted Kirk's thoughts once again. Annoyed, he said, "Yes, thank you Mr. Sulu." But he doubted the helmsman caught that tiniest bit of sarcasm in his tone. In any case, he would need a—  
  
"We're pulling him in now, sir. I suggest you go down to the transporter room."  
  
"Suggestion noted," Kirk said tightly. Now that he was going down to the transporter room to pick up Mr. Chekov, he would need—  
  
"Captain," Spock began.  
  
--a security team.  
  
Now, he turned to Spock. "Yes?"  
  
"I would like to accompany you down to the transporter room."  
  
Kirk nodded. "Of course."  
  
McCoy followed them out into the turbolift. He hadn't been asked to come, but he rarely was, and he always did.  
  
Once in the transporter room, it was only a matter of waiting for Chekov to be beamed to the Enterprise. Sometimes he couldn't stand waiting. At least he was back in his own body.  
  
Suddenly a sparkling beam of light materialized on the transporter pad. Spock seemed to appear, hunched over as if he had been trying to work the controls of a shuttlecraft. He looked up, startled, and tried to jump off the transporter pad.  
  
However, his jump was somewhat interrupted by a phaser set on stun.  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"How----he?"  
  
"Coming-----soon----likely."  
  
"Get ready---restrain—-."  
  
"--s sir."  
  
The voices around Chekov grew in volume and clarity as the darkness began to recede. His head hurt, yes, but that didn't matter. He had to get out of here. Now! Now! Now! But his body and mind were lethargic, and would not obey his commands. His commands?  
  
Now that was something to think about. Were these his commands? Did he really want to keep Spock's body this much? Yes! Part of his mind shouted. But part said No. And—  
  
Damn. He was awake now.  
  
And Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and a group of red-shirts were all staring down at him.  
  
Get! Out! Of! Here! His mind yelled at him. But as soon as he tried to get up, force-field handcuffs were clasped around his wrists.  
  
"Mr. Chekov," Kirk said.  
  
Chekov glared.  
  
"You will be confined to the brig until we can cure you of, well, this. Do you understand."  
  
"I em not stupid."  
  
Kirk smiled. "Good," he said in a sarcastically cheery tone. "Mr. Red, Ms. Kelkson, and Mr. Wong," Kirk nodded to the red-shirts. "Take this man to the brig."  
  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
  
"And now," Spock began once Chekov was gone, "I suggest we deal with the Setian. We cannot wait for her to wake up on her own, I fear."  
  
"Setian? Oh, you mean the walrus-people."  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well you see I got so used to thinking of them as walrus-people down on that planet, so you'll have to excuse—"  
  
"Later, please," Kirk said.  
  
They gathered their field jackets and went back to the freezer. The walrus- person was still in the position she had been left.  
  
"This is not good," McCoy observed.  
  
And then she moved. Suddenly the three men's minds were filled with unimaginable heat, everywhere, the world was an oven...  
  
And suddenly they were back on Seti Olan Two.  
  
"Oh no," McCoy moaned. Even Spock sighed. Kirk looked rather confused.  
  
"You're not really here," someone told them. It seemed to be the walrus- person, though she had never spoken with sound before.  
  
"It's certainly cold enough," Kirk replied.  
  
"You are, at the moment, lying motionless in your ship's freezer," the walrus-thing told them.  
  
"That explains the cold," McCoy said, hugging himself for warmth.  
  
"QUIET!" the walrus-alien yelled. "Do you know why you are here?"  
  
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Do you? Find out next chapter. But a review would really be appreciated. 


	16. In the Mind

Disclaimer: Star Trek is so NOT mine.

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Reviewer Replies – By the way, everyone, thank you for reviewing! I'm sorry if you don't remember what you wrote... I haven't updated in about... forever.

**-**

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A/N: And here's yet another note apologizing for not updating sooner... But I just entered high school and have been kind of busy... Anyway, please read, review, and enjoy your flight.

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Identity Crisis

Chapter Sixteen – In the Mind 

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"No, actually, I have no idea why I am here whatsoever," McCoy stated. "Mind telling us?"

"I thought you were good. You seemed to be. But you stick-people have many tricks up your sleeves. You made me feel this." Suddenly the heat was back, a thousand ovens and suns all right here, now burning... "Yes, that is what your ship felt like to me. Even this temperature is uncomfortable."

"Yes... very sorry," McCoy gasped. He felt drained from the sudden pain.

"No you're not," the walrus-person accused. She was changing shape now, turning into a human woman that made Kirk jerk forward until he realized that this was simply illusion.

"You're not sorry," the walrus-person turned woman said. "You're not sorry at all. You're angry at me for putting you all through this. You wish I would just let you go and fix the sneeze."

"Okay, maybe that is true," McCoy said. He seemed to have been elected spokesperson. "But is there any way to prove that we mean well? Or that we want to mean well?"

"Perhaps," the walrus-lady said. She changed form again, this time becoming an actual walrus. "This is what you see me as, isn't it." This wasn't a question. "But in this little dream we're all having, this collective thought, I can be anything I want. And I can do anything I want."

"Well that's very nice," McCoy drawled. It was somewhat sarcastic, which he realized too late probably wouldn't be the best tone to take with this walrus-person. "I mean, uh, good for you." It would probably be best to stop talking, McCoy decided. Everything he said sounded sarcastic.

Kirk took over as spokesperson. "Is there anything we can do to fix this problem?"

"It is not your problem," the walrus-lady answered.

"Uh... okay," Kirk said, slightly taken aback. It usually WAS his problem, and it could usually be solved with a bunch of heroic fighting, strong speeches, and occasionally the loss of a shirt.

The walrus-thing was laughing again and Kirk remembered at the wrong moment that it was telepathic.

McCoy wasn't sure why the creature was laughing, so he decided to get down to business. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't say anything stupid that the walrus-lady would take the wrong way. Though it probably couldn't get any worse.

"Can I fix the problem?" he asked. "Uh, can we?" he glanced at Spock, just to make sure the Vulcan was in on the 'we.' Of course, Spock's face showed nothing. McCoy sighed almost inaudibly and focused his attention on the walrus-lady once more.

She smiled, and it gave her face the odd look of someone who rarely smiles but decides just once to grace someone with a grin. Well, McCoy told himself, she usually looks like a walrus. How much could she smile anyway?

"Yes, you can fix the problem. You have two choices. Both will greatly benefit my people."

"And they are...?" McCoy asked.

"First choice: Come to live on... Seti Olan Two for a human month so that you can be watched again."

Whether or not she noticed the looks of surprise and disgust that formed on both McCoy (and, as the doctor noted for later teasing) and Spock's faces didn't matter. She continued on to option number two.

"Or you can let me come live in your mind for a human week so that I can experience human life."

Neither option sounded particularly wonderful. Go back to that stupid planet! Never. But have this walrus-thing live in his head... that didn't even make sense! He supposed it must mean telepathically. But he'd never been comfortable with the psychic. (Except Spock, of course, but he was practically human, compared to these walrus-y things.)

"In my head?" he asked weakly.

"Yes," the walrus-lady said. "We were intrigued by you humans" Spock gave the tiniest hint of a snort "and we wish to study you more. We find your culture fascinating, and believe learning about it could benefit us. Those are the only two ways in which this can happen.

"Are you sure?" McCoy asked.

"Yes."

"Doctor," Spock said quietly, "You do not have to hold the Setian in YOUR mind. I am sure I can do this myself."

Of course the walrus-thing heard this. "No, you can't. You have too many shields up in your mind. It would be extremely uncomfortable for the both of us. In any case, I would like to learn about humans. So I will be in McCoy's mind."

Spock and McCoy nodded. "So how does this work?" McCoy asked.

"I will enter," the walrus-lady answered simply. Then suddenly McCoy had the strangest feeling. It was as if someone stuck a large, slimy boiled egg into his ear. He yelped. Then the egg liquefied and a cool flowing sensation flooded his brain.

Then it was over, and he was standing in the freezer again. The walrus-thing was nowhere to be seen. Oh, God, he thought, is that thing actually in my head?

YES, IN A WAY, someone answered. McCoy jumped and turned around. Of course, no one was there.

Kirk chuckled. "What're you jumping for, Bones? We're back home."

But this was somewhat drowned out by the voice in his head that stated, FASCINATING! THE HUMAN BRAIN IS AMAZING! SUCH INTERESTING MEMORIES. WHAT IS THIS? A FRIED EGG. I MUST EAT A FRIED EGG! AND THIS GEORGIA! IT LOOKS AMAZING!

'Do you mind,' McCoy thought at the loud voice in his head, 'toning it down a little bit?'

OKAY, the walrus-thing though back at him. I HAD NO IDEA HUMANS WERE SO INTERESTING. HA. PLUM.

McCoy tried to mentally scowl but it must have shown on his face, because Kirk and Spock looked at him funny.

"Sorry," he said, "The walrus-thing is having fun discovering some old memories. She called me 'Plum.'"

"But why not?" Jim asked annoyingly. "You've always been our Plum."

"Shut up," McCoy mumbled absentmindedly. Most of his attention had gone back to that voice in his head.

TALKING. I REALLY MUST TRY TALKING. I WILL, OF COURSE, USE YOUR MOUTH.

'What?' McCoy thought as fiercely as he could. 'You're not talking through me—'

Too late. He could hear himself saying "Amazing. Hello! Helooooo! Laugh. Hahahahah! Huh. Ah! Ha ha! Fried Eggs. Eguh-guh-guh-gsssss." He was suddenly very aware that Kirk and Spock were looking at him. Spock had raised that damned eyebrow.

He tried to say, It's not me, it's that walrus-lady, but as the said walrus creature was also using his mouth, the words came out somewhat garbled.

'Will you shut up for a second?' he thought, and then he had control of his mouth again. The walrus-thing was mentally pouting. He could feel her mope.

"Jim," McCoy began again. "I'm sorry. But the walrus-lady in my mind had control of my mouth, and I couldn't exactly talk through her."

"So that was the... eguggugugs?" Kirk asked hesitantly.

"No, that was just me, having fun with words," McCoy said sarcastically. "Now can we get out of this freezer? I'm cold. Frrrreezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzer! Zz!" the walrus-lady added.

Jim smirked and Spock looked dangerously close to a smile. McCoy sneered at both of them as they left the freezer.

The walrus-lady seemed fairly amazed at the sight of a hallway. There had been nothing like this on Seti Olan Two. So she kept using his mouth to comment on the wonders of things like doorways.

Everyone probably thought he was insane. Oh well.

"We are going to sickbay," he commanded Spock. "And you," he turned to Kirk, "Get Chekov out of the brig and take _him_ to sickbay. We can change them back from there."

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Chekov resisted at first. They came into the brig and he tried to make a run for it, but the force field came back up and he stopped short. Running into an energy field was never a good idea. He was about to fight the security guards and McCoy—why was McCoy there?--when the doctor said something and then the urge to run was gone. He couldn't even remember what the CMO had said. How weird.

But now he was Pavel Chekov. He was a Russian. And very proud of it. What did he want with this Vulcan shell? "It's okay, I vill not fight," he said as the redshirts drew their phasers.

"No, he won't," McCoy agreed. Now that was odd. McCoy was one of the few who knew what had happened.

Come to think of it, what HAD happened? He'd just been sitting there in that room with Mr. Spock, then suddenly he realized that he absolutely needed to keep the Vulcan body. And then he'd actually assaulted an officer and run off into the snow.

Was he insane?

Well, at least he wanted to be Pavel again.

"Come to sickbay," McCoy ordered. "Baaaay. I like the ay. It's okaaay," he added, "He won't fight anymore. I made sure of that. I've brought out the 'I'm Chekov and I'm Russian' in him. Chekovvvvv. Vvvv."

Well, Chekov mused, if I'm insane, at least I'm not the only one.

But he didn't fight, nor could he see any reason _to_ fight. What had gotten into him then? Why had he wanted to be anything but his glorious Russian self. The idea of staying a Vulcan forever just seemed stupid now. Trade his wonderful Russian heritage for some special Vulcan strength? Never.

He walked up to sickbay with the annoying group of security guards aiming phasers at his back. He wanted to yell at them that no, he was not going to run away, but he figured that yelling would only make the situation worse.

And what is the situation? he mused yet again. Well, maybe the others know. Come to think of it, was that McCoy acting strange, or was that Roberts? He'd assumed that the others had gotten switched back, but maybe they hadn't. And something weird must be going on, if McCoy/Roberts had been able to make him not want to run away.

but why had he wanted to run away? The same question, over and over again.

Then suddenly he knew. The idea had come out of nowhere. Complete with images of...of what must have happened. It was McCoy and Roberts running up somewhere, back in their own bodies (and I knew that how?), Spock sitting on the walrus-thing as it carried him across the snow, the walrus-alien lying prone in the freezer, then somehow, somehow transferred into McCoy's head. And he knew exactly what as going on, and why. It played out like a little movie in his head.

It was a lot to take in in three seconds.

Once he'd sorted around the information, which happened to be a detailed...log? of what had happened when he'd run off. He looked around to find the source.

McCoy was winking in a very pronounced and exaggerated way.

Well, of course if it was in McCoy's head the thoughts would have come from there. Everything made sense now.

McCoy clamped his hand over his eye. "Stop winking!" he muttered fiercely.

"This is a human gesture, am I right?" he said in reply.

"Not like that. Now stoppit!"

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Spock sat on the bed, wondering just how long it would take for the security guards to bring Chekov up to the bridge. Surprisingly, they came one minute and eight-point-three seconds early.

Chekov sat down next to him with a muted, "Sorry, sair."

Spock was about to point out the feeling sorry was illogical because Chekov had been under the control of an alien, but McCoy/the walrus-lady glared at him and said "Shut up."

Spock idly wondered which had told him to 'shut up,' but he didn't have the chance to pursue the matter further when suddenly he was floating and then back in his own body.

Any human would have jumped for joy, but Spock only smiled. He had to wipe the expression when McCoy (or maybe the walrus-lady) blurted out, "Look! Spock's actually grinning!"

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Review? Please? Reviews will be worshipped (as will reviewers). Flames will be used to toast marshmallows.588888320-q


	17. A Tour of Humanity

Disclaimer: I still don't own Star Trek…

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A/N: I'm so sorry! It's been ages and ages (and ages and ages) since I last updated. My Star Trek muse disappeared, and then my fanfiction muse followed it. But now I'm finally back… with chapter seventeen… but you knew that already.

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Identity Crisis

Chapter Seventeen –The Tourist

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Chekov wasn't sure what to expect. The trip out of his body had been somewhat confusing and traumatic. But coming back was gentler. He wasn't rushed through someone else's disconnected memories. Instead it felt like he was gliding weightless through the air, towards the Chekov body that he now realized he'd missed.

Suddenly his leg hurt. And he had a headache.

A big, happy grin plastered itself over his face. He was back! The feeling of elation swept over him, and he had a sudden urge to get up and do a happy dance. He fought the urge and said, "I'm back!"

"As am I," Spock said slowly, as though he wasn't sure if it could actually be true.

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The walrus-lady had demanded a tour of the ship. McCoy had taken her through the hallways, and she'd been especially excited when he'd taken some time to eat lunch. (YOUR FOOD IS SO STRANGE! she'd said. AND LUNCH IS A FUN WORD. HMM. SO IS BREAKFAST. AND DINNER. HUMAN MEALS HAVE FUN NAMES!)

McCoy decided that the next place to take her would be sick bay. Other than Chekov and a few other people with minor injuries, the main room was empty. That was strange. There were always supposed to be nurses on duty. There were _supposed_ to be a few nurses on duty.

This must be Roberts's doing. Had he just told everyone to go to their rooms?

I SINCERELY DOUBT THAT, the walrus-lady said. WE HEAR NOISE FROM THAT WAY. The walrus-person pointed McCoy's hand in the direction of his office.

"Huh?" McCoy wondered aloud. Now that he listened closely, he could hear a muffled sound coming from his office. He could swear he heard phaser fire.

Really, what had Roberts done?

He cautiously walked towards his office, and the sounds grew louder. There were laughing voices, phasers, something that sounded like the Orion language, and… no, that wasn't possible. There were tribbles in his office.

He hovered outside the door for a moment, but the walrus-person grew impatient and walked his body through.

The scene that met his eyes was rather surprising. His entire medical staff and many of the ship's ensigns were clustered around his computer (and a few other portable consoles that someone had procured). Nurse Chapel sat at McCoy's computer, blasting virtual tribbles with a joystick someone had ordered from the computer.

A young man in science blue looked up as he entered. "Hey, Doctor," he said casually.

McCoy had at least expected everyone to be embarrassed that they were in his office playing video games. They should have jumped up, nervously trying to clear the screens and stammer out a greeting and excuse. But this? Nurse Chapel didn't even tear her gaze away from the tribble-shooting game.

"What is going on?" he finally asked.

YOU MEAN THIS IS NOT NORMAL? The walrus-lady asked innocently. McCoy was glad she'd stopped using his mouth.

Nurse Chapel finally finished off the last of the tribbles and sat up facing him. "You said we could play a few days ago," she said. "Before anyone beamed down to Seti Olan Three and got mixed up. I wasn't on duty, so I assumed the offer was still standing."

"Nurse," McCoy said slowly, "We were 'mixed up' before we beamed down. _I_ didn't not ask you to shoot tribbles on my computer."

"Oh!" Nurse Chapel said, standing up quickly. "I'm sorry, Doctor. No one told us, and we assumed that the switch had happened on the planet."

McCoy sighed. "Fine, fine. What are you playing, anyway?"

Nurse Chapel grinned sheepishly. She typed in a command and the computer flashed up the title screen: Empire of the Tribbles.

"Oh my God," McCoy muttered. Then, louder, "So, uh, what is everyone else playing?"

The blue-shirted ensign said, "Pirates of Orion."

"I have Romulan Chase," someone added.

"Chekov lent us his copy of Ancient Russia: The Game," a nurse offered.

McCoy squinted at him. "Hamilton, aren't you supposed to be on duty?"

The nurse stood up so quickly that his chair skidded back. "Uh, yes sir," he stammered. "I'm going back out there, sir." He quickly left the office.

"Now, who else is supposed to be working?" McCoy asked. About five people wordlessly left the office. The sea of off-duty faces stared at him expectantly. "Now," McCoy said, "what am I going to do with you?"

"Uh, we can leave," a lieutenant in command gold said uncomfortably. Obviously he wished that he hadn't joined the game room.

"Actually," a nurse said, "Would you mind if I finished my game?"

"I never got a turn," someone added.

McCoy was on the verge of telling them all to shoo, but the walrus-person took control of his mouth first. "You can stay," she said, "But you have to let me play."

What? McCoy thought.

I WANT TO EXPERIENCE THIS, the walrus-lady replied.

Fine, McCoy said. He sat at the controls and the walrus-lady began to chase Romulans.

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"_I_ vas not being rude!" Chekov protested. "Didn't you hear about vhat happened?"

Kayla Dunn shook her head. "All I know is that when we ate dinner together, you barely talked and you just left. Are you trying to tell me something? Do you want to break up with me?"

"No, no," Chekov said. He fought the urge to laugh. Spock probably had been rude on his date with Kayla. "Something happened with that psychic walrus-person and somehow I svitched bodies with Mr. Spock. Really, they didn't tell you?"

"What?" Chekov's girlfriend asked. She looked doubtful. "You _switched bodies_ with Mr. Spock?"

Chekov nodded. "Yes. That is what happened. So I am sorry if Mr. Spock was rude to you."

"Okay, I believe you," she said. "But ew—I went out with Mr. Spock!"

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Kirk sat in the command chair, pondering the recent events. He felt left out, in a way. Usually, if something like this happened, he would be right in the middle of it. He sighed. Was he actually disappointed to have missed out on his crew's crazy adventure?

Everything seemed like it was normal, anyway. Spock had returned to his station on the bridge, blatantly refusing a day off for some rest. Kirk stole a glance at him. He seemed fine, hunched over his control, finishing some project…

Chekov and Roberts were in Sick Bay. Chekov was recovering from the kick that he himself had delivered, and Roberts was dealing with his missing finger.

McCoy was still giving a tour of humanity to the walrus-lady. Kirk had last seen them heading to McCoy's office.

Everything sure did seem normal.

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